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LIBRARY OF THE 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 


WE 
HS1iWw 
1910 





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A W d B result in dismissal from the University. 
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LIBRARY OF THE 
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AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 


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A Wonder Book and 
Tanglewood Tales 


Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2021 with funding trom 
University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 


https://archive.org/details/wonderbooktangleOOhawt_0 











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A WONDER BOOK 


AND 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


FOR GIRLS AND BOYS 


BY 


NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 


Weleda ciel Urner: See Bay 


MAXFIELD PARRISH 





NEW YORK 
DUFFIELD & COMPANY 
MCM xX. 





, Bx Durrien & Company 


Coprricnt, 1910 





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CAMBRIDGE, 


THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, 















Preface 


HE author has long been of opinion that many of the 
classical myths were capable of being rendered into 
very capital reading for children. In the little volume 

here offered to the public, he has worked up half a dozen of 
them, with this end in view. A great freedom of treatment was 
necessary to his plan; but it will be observed by every one who 
attempts to render these legends malleable in his intellectual fur- 
nace, that they are marvellously independent of all temporary 
modes and circumstances. ‘They remain essentially the same, after 
changes that would affect the identity of almost anything else. 

He does not, therefore, plead guilty to a sacrilege, in having 
sometimes shaped anew, as his fancy dictated, the forms that 
_ have been hallowed by an antiquity of two or three thousand years. 
No epoch of time can claim a copyright in these immortal fables. 
They seem never to have been made; and certainly, so long as 
man exists, they can never perish; but, by their indestructibility 
itself, they are legitimate subjects for every age to clothe with 
its own garniture of manners and sentiment, and to imbue with 
its own morality. In the present version they may have lost much 
of their classical aspect (or, at all events, the author has not been 
careful to preserve it), and have, perhaps, assumed a Gothic or 
romantic guise. 

In performing this pleasant task, — for it has been really a 
task fit for hot weather, and one of the most agreeable, of a 

Vv 


PREFACE 


literary kind, which he ever undertook, — the author has not 
always thought it necessary to write downward, in order to meet 
the comprehension of children. He has generally suffered the 
theme to soar, whenever such was its tendency, and when he 
himself was buoyant enough to follow without an effort. Chil- 
dren possess an unestimated sensibility to whatever is deep or 
high, in imagination or feeling, so long as it is simple, likewise. 
It is only the artificial and the complex that bewilder them. 


Lenox, July 15, 1851. 


Contents 


A Wonder Book for Girls and Boys 


Pacn 

The Gorgon’s Head 
Tanglewood Porch — Introductory to “‘ The Gorgon’s Head” : 3 
The Gorgon’s Head ngs ae pS Likes: wes be 8 
Tanglewood Porch — Ajter the Story Cen es en are! watt Paula Go 


The Golden Touch 
Shadow Brook — Introductory to ‘The Golden Touch” . . . = 85 
SECC ICT MU OUCTIORE SPORE CU ey Ee AS ae) wr, are 8 
Pair wa EOC Ler bee tOry | ie at oh fy) ke BG 


The Paradise of Children 
Tanglewood Play-Room — Introductory to “‘ The Paradise of 


Children”... eh ee ee Te, Soe hG erie koe) DO 
The Paradise of Children ae CUE es Lee eas tay. OG 
Tanglewood Play-Room — After the Siory . . . . . . 80 


The Three Golden Apples 
Tanglewood Fireside — Introductory to “‘ The Three Golden 


Apples. . en Ty an UT a Pa RE Pee et eee eg) 
The Three Golden feats 3 LL MA oe Ie CV any set. OF 
Tanglewood Fireside — Ajter the Story et Meteo hee be. LOS 


The Miraculous Pitcher 
The Hill -Side — Introductory to “‘ The Miraculous Pitcher” .  . 111 
PDeRMUITactlous LE MCUCE. tye ircl) \.ou Meow mee ne Mabel ee, Wier.) LE4 
Lue Hillside —(4 fier the Story”. Sa ae ves 1s el a Le 184 
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A Wonder Book 





THE GORGON’S HEAD 


Tanglewood Porch 
Introductory to “ The Gorgon’s Head” 
Gober the porch of the country-seat called Tangle- 


wood, one fine autumnal morning, was assembled a 
merry party of little folks, with a tall youth in the midst 
of them. They had planned a nutting expedition, and were im- 
patiently waiting for the mists to roll up the hill-slopes, and for 
the sun to pour the warmth of the Indian summer over the fields 
and pastures, and into the nooks of the many-colored woods. 
There was a prospect of as fine a day as ever gladdened the aspect 
of this beautiful and comfortable world. As yet, however, the 
morning mist filled up the whole length and breadth of the valley, 
above which, on a gently sloping eminence, the mansion stood. 
This body of white vapor extended to within less than a hun- 
dred yards of the house. It completely hid everything beyond 
that distance, except a few ruddy or yellow tree-tops, which here 
and there emerged, and were glorified by the early sunshine, as 
was likewise the broad surface of the mist. Four or five miles 
off to the southward rose the summit of Monument Mountain, and 
seemed to be floating ona cloud. Some fifteen miles farther away, 
in the same direction, appeared the loftier Dome of Taconic, 
looking blue and indistinct, and hardly so substantial as the 
vapory sea that almost rolled over it. The nearer hills, which bor- 
dered the valley, were half submerged, and were specked with 
little cloud-wreaths all the way to their tops. On the whole, there 
3 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


was so much cloud, and so little solid earth, that it had the effect 
of a vision. 

The children above-mentioned, being as full of life as they 
could hold, kept overflowing from the porch of Tanglewood, and 
scampering along the gravel-walk, or rushing across the dewy 
herbage of the lawn. I can hardly tell how many of these small 
people there were; not less than nine or ten, however, nor more 
than a dozen, of all sorts, sizes, and ages, whether girls or boys. 
They were brothers, sisters, and cousins, together with a few of 
their young acquaintances, who had been invited by Mr. and 
Mrs. Pringle to spend some of this delightful weather with their 
own children, at Tanglewood. I am afraid to tell you their 
names, or even to give them any names which other children have 
ever been called by; because, to my certain knowledge, authors 
sometimes get themselves into great trouble by accidentally giv- 
ing the names of real persons to the characters in their books. For 
this reason I mean to call them Primrose, Periwinkle, Sweet 
Fern, Dandelion, Blue Eye, Clover, Huckleberry, Cowslip, 
Squash-Blossom, Milkweed, Plantain, and Buttercup; although, 
to be sure, such titles might better suit a group of fairies than a 
company of earthly children. 

It is not to be supposed that these little folks were to be per- 
mitted by their careful fathers and mothers, uncles, aunts, or 
grandparents, to stray abroad into the woods and fields, without 
the guardianship of some particularly grave and elderly person. 
Oh no, indeed! In the first sentence of my book, you will recollect 
that I spoke of a tall youth, standing in the midst of the children. 
His name — (and I shall let you know his real name, because he 
considers it a great honor to have told the stories that are here to 
be printed) — his name was Eustace Bright. He was a student 
at Williams College, and had reached, I think, at this period, the 
venerable age of eighteen years; so that he felt quite like a grand- 
father towards Periwinkle, Dandelion, Huckleberry, Squash- 

+ 


TANGLEWOOD PORCH 


‘Blossom, Milkweed, and the rest, who were only half or a third 
as venerable as he. <A trouble in his eyesight (such as many stu- 
dents think it necessary to have, nowadays, in order to prove their 
diligence at their books) had kept him from college a week or 
two after the beginning of the term. But, for my part, I have 
seldom met with a pair of eyes that looked as if they could see 
farther or better than those of Eustace Bright. 

This learned student was slender, and rather pale, as all 
Yankee students are; but yet of a healthy aspect, and as light and 
active as if he had wings to his shoes. By the by, being much 
addicted to wading through streamlets and across meadows, he 
had put on cowhide boots for the expedition. He wore a linen 
blouse, a cloth cap, and a pair of green spectacles, which he had 
assumed, probably, less for the preservation of his eyes than for 
the dignity that they imparted to his countenance. In either 
case, however, he might as well have let them alone; for Huckle- 
berry, a mischievous little elf, crept behind Eustace as he sat on 
the steps of the porch, snatched the spectacles from his nose, and 
clapped them on her own; and as the student forgot to take them 
back, they fell off into the grass, and lay there till the next spring. 

Now, Eustace Bright, you must know, had won great fame 
among the children, as a narrator of wonderful stories; and 
though he sometimes pretended to be annoyed, when they teased 
him for more, and more, and always for more, yet I really doubt 
whether he liked anything quite so well as to tell them. You might 
have seen his eyes twinkle, therefore, when Clover, Sweet Fern, 
Cowslip, Buttercup, and most of their playmates, besought him 
to relate one of his stories, while they were waiting for the mist 
to clear up. 

“Yes, Cousin Eustace,” said Primrose, who was a bright girl 
of twelve, with laughing eyes, and a nose that turned up a little, 
“the morning is certainly the best time for the stories with which 
you so often tire out our patience. We shall be in less danger of 

5 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


hurting your feelings, by falling asleep at the most interesting 
points, — as little Cowslip and I did last night!” 

“ Naughty Primrose,” cried Cowslip, a child of six years old; 
“T did not fall asleep, and I only shut my eyes, so as to see a 
picture of what Cousin Eustace was telling about. His stories 
are good to hear at night, because we can dream about them 
asleep; and good in the morning, too, because then we can 
dream about them awake. So I hope he will tell us one this very 
minute.” 

“Thank you, my little Cowslip,” said Eustace; “certainly 
you shall have the best story I can think of, if it were only for 
defending me so well from that naughty Primrose. But, chil- 
dren, I have already told you so many fairy tales, that I doubt 
whether there is a single one which you have not heard at least 
twice over. I am afraid you will fall asleep in reality, if I re- 
peat any of them again.” 

“No, no, no!” cried Blue Eye, Periwinkle, Plantain, and 
half a dozen others. “ We like a story all the better for having 
heard it two or three times before.” 

And it is a truth, as regards children, that a story seems 
often to deepen its mark in their interest, not merely by two or 
three, but by numberless repetitions. But Eustace Bright, in 
the exuberance of his resources, scorned to avail himself of an 
advantage which an older story-teller would have been glad to 
grasp at. 

“It would be a great pity,” said he, “if a man of my learn- 
ing (to say nothing of original fancy) could not find a new story 
every day, year in and year out, for children such as you. I will 
tell you one of the nursery tales that were made for the amuse- 
ment of our great old grandmother, the Earth, when she was 
a child in frock and pinafore. There are a hundred such; and 
it is a wonder to me that they have not long ago been put into 
picture-books for little girls and boys. But, instead of that, old 

6 


TANGLEWOOD PORCH 


gray-bearded grandsires pore over them in musty volumes of 
Greek, and puzzle themselves with trying to find out when, and 
how, and for what they were made.” 

“Well, well, well, well, Cousin Eustace!” cried all the chil- 
dren at once; “talk no more about your stories, but begin.” 

“Sit down, then, every soul of you,” said Eustace Bright, 
“and be all as still as so many mice. At the slightest inter- 
ruption, whether from great, naughty Primrose, little Dande- 
lion, or any other, I shall bite the story short off between my 
teeth, and swallow the untold part. But, in the first place, do 
any of you know what a Gorgon is?” 

“TI do,” said Primrose. 

“Then hold your tongue!” rejoined Eustace, who had rather 
she would have known nothing about the matter. “ Hold all 
your tongues, and I shall tell you a sweet pretty story of a 
Gorgon’s head.” 

And so he did, as you may begin to read on the next page. 
Working up his sophomorical erudition with a good deal of tact, 
and incurring great obligations to Professor Anthon, he, never- 
theless, disregarded all classical authorities, whenever the vagrant 
audacity of his imagination impelled him to do so. 


The Gorgon’s Head 


ERSEUS was the son of Danaé, who was the daughter 
Pp of a king. And when Perseus was a very little boy, some 

wicked people put his mother and himself into a chest, 
and set them afloat upon the sea. The wind blew freshly, and 
drove the chest away from the shore, and the uneasy billows 
tossed it up and down; while Danaé clasped her child closely 
to her bosom, and dreaded that some big wave would dash its 
foamy crest over them both. The chest sailed on, however, and 
neither sank nor was upset; until, when night was coming, it 
floated so near an island that it got entangled in a fisherman’s 
nets, and was drawn out high and dry upon the sand. The 
island was called Seriphus, and it was reigned over by King 
Polydectes, who happened to be the fisherman’s brother. 

This fisherman, I am glad to tell you, was an exceedingly 
humane and upright man. He showed great kindness to Danaé 
and her little boy; and continued to befriend them, until Per- 
seus had grown to be a handsome youth, very strong and active, 
and skilful in the use of arms. Long before this time, King 
Polydectes had seen the two strangers— the mother and her 
child — who had come to his dominions in a floating chest. As 
he was not good and kind, like his brother the fisherman, but 
extremely wicked, he resolved to send Perseus on a dangerous 
enterprise, in which he would probably be killed, and then to do 
some great mischief to Danaé herself. So this bad-hearted king 
spent a long while in considering what was the most dangerous 
thing that a young man could possibly undertake to perform. 

8 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


At last, having hit upon an enterprise that promised to turn out 
as fatally as he desired, he sent for the youthful Perseus. 

The young man came to the palace, and found the king sit- 
ting upon his throne. 

“Perseus,” said King Polydectes, smiling craftily upon him, 
“you are grown up a fine young man. You and your good 
mother have received a great deal of kindness from myself, as 
well as from my worthy brother the fisherman, and I suppose 
you would not be sorry to repay some of it.” 

“Please your Majesty,” answered Perseus, “I would will- 
ingly risk my life to do so.” 

“Well, then,” continued the king, still with a cunning smile 
on his lips, “ I*have a little adventure to propose to you; and, 
as you are a brave and enterprising youth, you will doubtless 
look upon it as a great piece of good luck to have so rare an 
opportunity of distinguishing yourself. You must know, my 
good Perseus, I think of getting married to the beautiful 
Princess Hippodamia; and it is customary, on these occasions, 
to make the bride a present of some far-fetched and elegant 
curiosity. I have been a little perplexed, I must honestly con- 
fess, where to obtain anything likely to please a princess of her 
exquisite taste. But, this morning, I flatter myself, I have 
thought of precisely the article.” 

“And can I assist your Majesty in obtaining it?” cried 
Perseus, eagerly. 

“You can, if you are as brave a youth as I believe you to 
be,” replied King Polydectes, with the utmost graciousness of 
manner. “ The bridal gift which I have set my heart on pre- 
senting to the beautiful Hippodamia is the head of the Gorgon 
Medusa with the snaky locks; and I depend on you, my dear 
Perseus, to bring it to me. So, as I am anxious to settle affairs 
with the princess, the sooner you go in quest of the Gorgon, the 
better I shall be pleased.” 

9 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


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“T will set out to-morrow morning,” answered Perseus. 

“Pray do so, my gallant youth,” rejoined the king. “ And, 
Perseus, in cutting off the Gorgon’s head, be careful to make 
a clean stroke, so as not to injure its appearance. You must 
bring it home in the very best condition, in order to suit the 
exquisite taste of the beautiful Princess Hippodamia.” 

Perseus left the palace, but was scarcely out of hearing be- 
fore Polydectes burst into a laugh; being greatly amused, wicked 
king that he was, to find how readily the young man fell into 
the snare. The news quickly spread abroad that Perseus had 
undertaken to cut off the head of Medusa with the snaky locks. 
Everybody was rejoiced; for most of the inhabitants of the 
island were as wicked as the king himself, and would have liked 
nothing better than to see some enormous mischief happen to 
Danaé and her son. The only good man in this unfortunate 
island of Seriphus appears to have been the fisherman. As Per- 
seus walked along, therefore, the people pointed after him, and 
made mouths, and winked to one another, and ridiculed him as 
loudly as they dared. 

“Ho, ho!” cried they; “ Medusa’s snakes will sting him 
soundly!” 

Now, there were three Gorgons alive at that period; and 
they were the most strange and terrible monsters that had ever 
been since the world was made, or that have been seen in after 
days, or that are likely to be seen in all time to come. I hardly 
know what sort of creature or hobgoblin to call them. They 
were three sisters, and seem to have borne some distant resem- 
blance to women, but were really a very frightful and mischievous 
species of dragon. It is, indeed, difficult to imagine what hide- 
ous beings these three sisters were. Why, instead of locks of 
hair, if you can believe me, they had each of them a hundred 
enormous snakes growing on their heads, all alive, twisting, 
wriggling, curling, and thrusting out their venomous tongues, 

10 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


with forked stings at the end! The teeth of the Gorgons were 
terribly long tusks; their hands were made of brass; and their 
bodies were all over scales, which, if not iron, were something 
as hard and impenetrable. They had wings, too, and exceed- 
ingly splendid ones, I can assure you; for every feather in them 
was pure, bright, glittering, burnished gold, and they looked 
very dazzlingly, no doubt, when the Gorgons were flying about 
in the sunshine. 

But when people happened to catch a glimpse of their 
glittering brightness, aloft in the air, they seldom stopped to 
gaze, but ran and hid themselves as speedily as they could. You 
will think, perhaps, that they were afraid of being stung by the 
serpents that served the Gorgons instead of hair, — or of hav- 
ing their heads bitten off by their ugly tusks, — or of being torn 
all to pieces by their brazen claws. Well, to be sure, these were 
some of the dangers, but by no means the greatest, nor the most 
difficult to avoid. For the worst thing about these abominable 
Gorgons was, that, if once a poor mortal fixed his eyes full upon 
one of their faces, he was certain, that very instant, to be changed 
from warm flesh and blood into cold and lifeless stone! 

Thus, as you will easily perceive, it was a very dangerous ad- 
venture that the wicked King Polydectes had contrived for this 
innocent young man. Perseus himself, when he had thought 
over the matter, could not help seeing that he had very little 
chance of coming safely through it, and that he was far more 
likely to become a stone image than to bring back the head of 
Medusa with the snaky locks. For, not to speak of other dif- 
ficulties, there was one which it would have puzzled an older man 
than Perseus to get over. Not only must he fight with and 
slay this golden-winged, iron-scaled, long-tusked, brazen-clawed, 
snaky-haired monster, but he must do it with his eyes shut, or, 
at least, without so much as a glance at the enemy with whom 
he was contending. Else, while his arm was lifted to strike, he 

11 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


would stiffen into stone, and stand with that uplifted arm for 
centuries, until time, and the wind and weather, should crumble 
him quite away. This would be a very sad thing to befall a 
young man who wanted to perform a great many brave deeds, 
and to enjoy a great deal of happiness, in this bright and beau- 
tiful world. 

So disconsolate did these thoughts make him, that Perseus 
could not bear to tell his mother what he had undertaken to do. 
He therefore took his shield, girded on his sword, and crossed 
over from the island to the mainland, where he sat down in a 
solitary place, and hardly refrained from shedding tears. 

But, while he was in this sorrowful mood, he heard a voice 
close beside him. 

“Perseus,” said the voice, “ why are you sad?” 

He lifted his head from his hands, in which he had hidden 
it, and behold! all alone as Perseus had supposed hmself to be, 
there was a stranger in the solitary place. It was a brisk, in- 
telligent, and remarkably shrewd-looking young man, with a 
cloak over his shoulders, an odd sort of cap on his head, a 
strangely twisted staff in his hand, and a short and very crooked 
sword hanging by his side. He was exceedingly light and active 
in his figure, like a person much accustomed to gymnastic exer- 
cises, and well able to leap or run. Above all, the stranger had 
such a cheerful, knowing, and helpful aspect (though it was 
certainly a little mischievous, into the bargain), that Perseus could 
not help feeling his spirits grow livelier as he gazed at him. 
Besides, being really a courageous youth, he felt greatly ashamed 
that anybody should have found him with tears in his eyes, like 
a timid little school-boy, when, after all, there might be no oc- 
casion for despair. So Perseus wiped his eyes, and answered the 
stranger pretty briskly, putting on as brave a look as he could. 

‘“T am not so very sad,” said he, “only thoughtful about an 
adventure that I have undertaken.” 

12 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


“Oho!” answered the stranger. “ Well, tell me all about it, 
and possibly I may be of service to you. I have helped a good 
many young men through adventures that looked difficult enough 
beforehand. Perhaps you may have heard of me. I have more 
names than one; but the name of Quicksilver suits me as well 
as any other. Tell me what the trouble is, and we will talk the 
matter over, and see what can be done.” 

The stranger’s words and manner put Perseus into quite a 
different mood from his former one. He resolved to tell Quick- 
silver all his difficulties, since he could not easily be worse off than 
he already was, and, very possibly, his new friend might give 
him some advice that would turn out well in the end. So he let 
the stranger know, in few words, precisely what the case was, — 
how that King Polydectes wanted the head of Medusa with the 
snaky locks as a bridal gift for the beautiful Princess Hippo- 
damia, and how that he had undertaken to get it for him, but 
was afraid of being turned into stone. 

“And that would be a great pity,” said Quicksilver, with 
his mischievous smile. ‘“‘ You would make a very handsome 
marble statue, it is true, and it would be a considerable number 
of centuries before you crumbled away; but, on the whole, one 
would rather be a young man for a few years, than a stone image 
for a great many.” 

“Oh, far rather!” exclaimed Perseus, with the tears again 
standing in his eyes. ‘“‘ And, besides, what would my dear mother 
do, if her beloved son were turned into a stone?” 

“Well, well, let us hope that the affair will not turn out so 
very badly,” replied Quicksilver, in an encouraging tone. “I 
am the very person to help you, if anybody can. My sister and 
myself will do our utmost to bring you safe through the adven- 
ture, ugly as it now looks.” 

“Your sister?”’ repeated Perseus. 

“Yes, my sister,” said the stranger. “‘ She is very wise, I 

13 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


promise you; and as for myself, I generally have all my wits 
about me, such as they are. If you show yourself bold and 
cautious, and follow our advice, you need not fear being a stone 
image yet awhile. But, first of all, you must polish your shield, 
till you can see your face in it as distinctly as in a mirror.” 

This seemed to Perseus rather an odd beginning of the ad- 
venture; for he thought it of far more consequence that the shield 
should be strong enough to defend him from the Gorgon’s brazen 
claws, than that it should be bright enough to show him the 
reflection of his face. However, concluding that Quicksilver knew 
better than himself, he immediately set to work, and scrubbed the 
shield with so much diligence and good-will, that it very quickly 
shone like the moon at harvest-time. Quicksilver looked at it 
with a smile, and nodded his approbation. Then, taking off his 
own short and crooked sword, he girded it about Perseus, instead 
of the one which he had before worn. 

“No sword but mine will answer your purpose,” observed he; 
“the blade has a most excellent temper, and will cut through 
iron and brass as easily as through the slenderest twig. And 
now we will set out. The next thing is to find the Three Gray 
Women, who will tell us where to find the Nymphs.” 

“'The Three Gray Women!” cried Perseus, to whom this 
seemed only a new difficulty in the path of his adventure; “ pray 
who may the Three Gray Women be? I never heard of them 
before.” 

“They are three very strange old ladies,” said Quicksilver, 
laughing. “They have but one eye among them, and only one 
tooth. Moreover, you must find them out by starlight, or in 
the dusk of the evening; for they never show themselves by the 
light either of the sun or moon.” 

“ But,” said Perseus, “ why should I waste my time with these 
Three Gray Women? Would it not be better to set out at once 
in search of the terrible Gorgons? ” 

14 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


“No, no,” answered his friend. “ There are other things to 
be done, before you can find your way to the Gorgons. There 
is nothing for it but to hunt up these old ladies; and when we 
meet with them, you may be sure that the Gorgons are not a 
great way off. Come, let us be stirring!” 

Perseus, by this time, felt so much confidence in his com- 
panion’s sagacity, that he made no more objections, and pro- 
fessed himself ready to begin the adventure immediately. ‘They 
accordingly set out, and walked at a pretty brisk pace; so brisk, 
indeed, that Perseus found it rather difficult to keep up with his 
nimble friend Quicksilver. To say the truth, he had a singular 
idea that Quicksilver was furnished with a pair of winged shoes, 
which, of course, helped him along marvellously. And then, too, 
when Perseus looked sideways at him, out of the corner of his 
eye, he seemed to see wings on the side of his head; although, if 
he turned a full gaze, there were no such things to be perceived, 
but only an odd kind of cap. But, at all events, the twisted staff 
was evidently a great convenience to Quicksilver, and enabled him 
to proceed so fast, that Perseus, though a remarkably active 
young man, began to be out of breath. 

“ Here!” cried Quicksilver, at last,—for he knew well 
enough, rogue that he was, how hard Perseus found it to keep 
pace with him, — “take you the staff, for you need it a great 
deal more than I. Are there no better walkers than yourself in 
the island of Seriphus?”’ 

“T could walk pretty well,” said Perseus, glancing slyly at 
his companion’s feet, “if I had only a pair of winged shoes.” 

“We must see about getting you a pair,” answered 
Quicksilver. 

But the staff helped Perseus along so bravely, that he no 
longer felt the slightest weariness. In fact, the stick seemed to 
be alive in his hand, and to lend some of its life to Perseus. He 
and Quicksilver now walked onward at their ease, talking very 

15 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


sociably together; and Quicksilver told so many pleasant stories 
about his former adventures, and how well his wits had served 
him on various occasions, that Perseus began to think him a very 
wonderful person. He evidently knew the world; and nobody 
is so charming to a young man as a friend who has that kind of 
knowledge. Perseus listened the more eagerly, in the hope of 
brightening his own wits by what he heard. 

At last, he happened to recollect that Quicksilver had spoken 
of a sister, who was to lend her assistance in the adventure which 
they were now bound upon. 

“Where is she?” he inquired. “Shall we not meet her 
soon?” 

“ All at the proper time,” said his companion. “ But this 
sister of mine, you must understand, is quite a different sort of 
character from myself. She is very grave and prudent, seldom 
smiles, never laughs, and makes it a rule not to utter a word un- 
less she has something particularly profound to say. Neither 
will she listen to any but the wisest conversation.” 

“Dear me!” ejaculated Perseus; “I shall be afraid to say 
a syllable.” 

‘She is a very accomplished person, I assure you,” continued 
Quicksilver, “and has all the arts and sciences at her fingers’ 
ends. In short, she is so immoderately wise, that many people 
call her wisdom personified. But, to tell you the truth, she has 
hardly vivacity enough for my taste; and I think you would 
scarcely find her so pleasant a travelling companion as myself. 
She has her good points, nevertheless; and you will find the 
benefit of them, in your encounter with the Gorgons.” 

By this time it had grown quite dusk. They were now come 
to a very wild and desert place, overgrown with shaggy bushes, 
and so silent and solitary that nobody seemed ever to have dwelt 
or journeyed there. All was waste and desolate, in the gray twi- 
light, which grew every moment more obscure. Perseus looked 

16 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


about him, rather disconsolately, and asked Quicksilver whether 
they had a great deal farther to go. 

“ Hist! hist!” whispered his companion. “Make no noise! 
This is just the time and place to meet the Three Gray Women. 
Be careful that they do not see you before you see them; for, 
though they have but a single eye among the three, it is as sharp- 
_ sighted as half a dozen common eyes.” 

“But what must I do,” asked Perseus, “when we meet 
them?” 

Quicksilver explained to Perseus how the Three Gray Women 
managed with their one eye. They were in the habit, it seems, 
of changing it from one to another, as if it had been a pair of 
spectacles, or — which would have suited them better — a quizzing- 
glass. When one of the three had kept the eye a certain time, 
she took it out of the socket and passed it to one of her sisters, 
whose turn it might happen to be, and who immediately clapped 
it into her own head, and enjoyed a peep at the visible world. 
Thus it will easily be understood that only one of the Three Gray 
Women could see, while the other two were in utter darkness; 
and, moreover, at the instant when the eye was passing from 
hand to hand, neither of the poor old ladies was able to see a 
wink. I have heard of a great many strange things, in my day, 
and have witnessed not a few; but none, it seems to me, that 
can compare with the oddity of these Three Gray Women, all 
peeping through a single eye. 

So thought Perseus, likewise, and was so astonished that he 
almost fancied his companion was joking with him, and that 
there were no such old women in the world. 

“You will soon find whether I tell the truth or no,”’ observed 
Quicksilver. “ Hark! hush! hist! hist! There they come, now! ” 

Perseus looked earnestly through the dusk of the evening, 
and there, sure enough, at no great distance off, he descried the 
Three Gray Women. The light being so faint, he could not well 

Q 17 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


make out what sort of figures they were; only he discovered that 
they had long gray hair; and, as they came nearer, he saw that 
two of them had but the empty socket of an eye, in the middle 
of their foreheads. But, in the middle of the third sister’s fore- 
head, there was a very large, bright, and piercing eye, which 
sparkled like a great diamond in a ring; and so penetrating did 
it seem to be, that Perseus could not help thinking it must pos- 
sess the gift of seeing in the darkest midnight just as perfectly 
as at noonday. The sight of three persons’ eyes was melted and 
collected into that single one. 

Thus the three old dames got along about as comfortably, 
upon the whole, as if they could all see at once. She who chanced 
to have the eye in her forehead led the other two by the hands, 
peeping sharply about her, all the while; insomuch that Per- 
seus dreaded lest she should see right through the thick clump 
of bushes behind which he and Quicksilver had hidden them- 
selves. My stars! it was positively terrible to be within reach 
of so very sharp an eye! 

But, before they reached the clump of bushes, one of the 
Three Gray Women spoke. 

“Sister! Sister Scarecrow!” cried she, “you have had the 
eye long enough. It is my turn now!” 

“Let me keep it a moment longer, Sister Nightmare,” an- 
swered Scarecrow. “I thought I had a glimpse of something 
behind that thick bush.” 

“Well, and what of that?” retorted Nightmare, peevishly. 
“Can’t I see into a thick bush as easily as yourself? The eye 
is mine as well as yours; and I know the use of it as well as 
you, or may be a little better. I insist upon taking a peep 
immediately! ” 

But here the third sister, whose name was Shakejoint, began 
to complain, and said that it was her turn to have the eye, and 
that Scarecrow and Nightmare wanted to keep it all to them- 

18 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


selves. To end the dispute, old Dame Scarecrow took the eye 
out of her forehead, and held it forth in her hand. 

“Take it, one of you,” cried she, “and quit this foolish 
quarrelling. For my part, I shall be glad of a little thick dark- 
ness. Take it quickly, however, or I must clap it into my own 
head again!” 

Accordingly, both Nightmare and Shakejoint put out their 
hands, groping eagerly to snatch the eye out of the hand of 
Scarecrow. But, being both alike blind, they could not easily find 
where Scarecrow’s hand was; and Scarecrow, being now just as 
much in the dark as Shakejoint and Nightmare, could not at 
once meet either of their hands, in order to put the eye into it. 
Thus (as you will see, with half an eye, my wise little auditors), 
these good old dames had fallen into a strange perplexity. For, 
though the eye shone and glistened like a star, as Scarecrow held 
it out, yet the Gray Women caught not the least glimpse of its 
light, and were all three in utter darkness, from too impatient 
a desire to see. 

Quicksilver was so much tickled at beholding Shakejoint and 
Nightmare both groping for the eye, and each finding fault with 
Scarecrow and one another, that he could scarcely help laughing 
aloud. 

“Now is your time!” he whispered to Perseus. “Quick, 
quick! before they can clap the eye into either of their heads. 
Rush out upon the old ladies, and snatch it from Scarecrow’s 
hand! ” 

In an instant, while the Three Gray Women were still scold- 
ing each other, Perseus leaped from behind the clump of bushes, 
and made himself master of the prize. The marvellous eye, as 
he held it in his hand, shone very brightly, and seemed to look 
up into his face with a knowing air, and an expression as if it 
would have winked, had it been provided with a pair of eyelids 
for that purpose. But the Gray Women knew nothing of what 

19 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


had happened; and, each supposing that one of her sisters was 
in possession of the eye, they began their quarrel anew. At last, 
as Perseus did not wish to put these respectable dames to greater 
inconvenience than was really necessary, he thought it right to 
explain the matter. 

“My good ladies,” said he, “‘ pray do not be angry with one 
another. If anybody is in fault, it is myself; for I have the 
honor to hold your very brilliant and excellent eye in my own 
hand! ” 

“You! you have our eye! And who are you?” screamed the 
Three Gray Women, all in a breath; for they were terribly 
frightened, of course, at hearing a strange voice, and discovering 
that their eyesight had got into the hands of they could not guess 
whom. ‘ Oh, what shall we do, sisters? what shall we do? We 
are all in the dark! Give us our eye! Give us our one, precious, 
solitary eye! You have two of your own! Give us our eye!” 

“Tell them,” whispered Quicksilver to Perseus, “that they 
shall have back the eye as soon as they direct you where to find 
the Nymphs who have the flying slippers, the magic wallet, and 
the helmet of darkness.” 

‘““My dear, good, admirable old ladies,’ said Perseus, ad- 
dressing the Gray Women, “there is no occasion for putting 
yourselves into such a fright. I am by no means a bad young 
man. You shall have back your eye, safe and sound, and as 
bright as ever, the moment you tell me where to find the 
Nymphs.” 

“The Nymphs! Goodness me! sisters, what Nymphs does 
he mean?” screamed Scarecrow. “There are a great many 
Nymphs, people say; some that go a hunting in the woods, and 
some that live inside of trees, and some that have a comfortable 
home in fountains of water. We know nothing at all about 
them. We are three unfortunate old souls, that go wandering 
about in the dusk, and never had but one eye amongst us, and 

20 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


that one you have stolen away. Oh, give it back, good stranger! 
— whoever you are, give it back!” 

All this while the Three Gray Women were groping with 
their outstretched hands, and trying their utmost to get hold of 
Perseus. But he took good care to keep out of their reach. 

“My respectable dames,” said he,—for his mother had 
taught him always to use the greatest civility, — “I hold your 
eye fast in my hand, and shall keep it safely for you, until you 
please to tell me where to find these Nymphs. The Nymphs, 
I mean, who keep the enchanted wallet, the flying slippers, and 
the what is it? — the helmet of invisibility.” 

“ Mercy on us, sisters! what is the young man talking about? ” 
exclaimed Scarecrow, Nightmare, and Shakejoint, one to another, 
with great appearance of astonishment. “A pair of flying slip- 
pers, quoth he! His heels would quickly fly higher than his head, 
if he were silly enough to put them on. And a helmet of invisi- 
bility! How could a helmet make him invisible, unless it were 
big enough for him to hide under it? And an enchanted wallet! 
What sort of a contrivance may that be, I wonder? No, no, 
good stranger! we can tell you nothing of these marvellous 
things. You have two eyes of your own, and we have but a 
single one amongst us three. You can find out such wonders 
better than three blind old creatures, like us.” 

Perseus, hearing them talk in this way, began really to think 
that the Gray Women knew nothing of the matter; and, as it 
grieved him to have put them to so much trouble, he was just 
on the point of restoring their eye and asking pardon for his 
rudeness in snatching it away. But Quicksilver caught his 
hand. 

“Don’t let them make a fool of you!” said he. ‘“ These 
Three Gray Women are the only persons in the world that can 
tell you where to find the Nymphs; and, unless you get that 
information, you will never succeed in cutting off the head of 

21 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


Medusa with the snaky locks. Keep fast hold of the eye, and 
all will go well.” 

As it turned out, Quicksilver was in the right. There are 
but few things that people prize so much as they do their eye- 
sight; and the Gray Women valued their single eye as highly 
as if it had been half a dozen, which was the number they ought 
to have had. Finding that there was no other way of recovering 
it, they at last told Perseus what he wanted to know. No sooner 
had they done so, than he immediately, and with the utmost re- 
spect, clapped the eye into the vacant socket in one of their fore- 
heads, thanked them for their kindness, and bade them farewell. 
Before the young man was out of hearing, however, they had got 
into a new dispute, because he happened to have given the eye 
to Scarecrow, who had already taken her turn of it when their 
trouble with Perseus commenced. 

It is greatly to be feared that the Three Gray Women were 
very much in the habit of disturbing their mutual harmony by 
bickerings of this sort; which was the more pity, as they could 
not conveniently do without one another, and were evidently 
intended to be inseparable companions. As a general rule, I 
would advise all people, whether sisters or brothers, old or young, 
who chance to have but one eye amongst them, to cultivate for- 
bearance, and not all insist upon peeping through it at once. 

Quicksilver and Perseus, in the mean time, were making the 
best of their way in quest of the Nymphs. The old dames had 
given them such particular directions, that they were not long 
in finding them out. They proved to be very different persons 
from Nightmare, Shakejoint, and Scarecrow; for, instead of 
being old, they were young and beautiful; and instead of one 
eye amongst the sisterhood, each Nymph had two exceedingly 
bright eyes of her own, with which she looked very kindly at 
Perseus. They seemed to be acquainted with Quicksilver; and, 
when he told them the adventure which Perseus had undertaken, 

22 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


they made no difficulty about giving him the valuable articles 
that were in their custody. In the first place, they brought out 
what appeared to be a small purse, made of deer skin, and curi- 
ously embroidered, and bade him be sure and keep it safe. This 
was the magic wallet. The Nymphs next produced a pair of 
shoes, or slippers, or sandals, with a nice little pair of wings at 
the heel of each. 

“Put them on, Perseus,” said Quicksilver. ‘“ You will find 
yourself as light-heeled as you can desire for the remainder of 
our journey.” 

So Perseus proceeded to put one of the slippers on, while 
he laid the other on the ground by his side. Unexpectedly, how- 
ever, this other slipper spread its wings, fluttered up off the 
ground, and would probably have flown away, if Quicksilver 
had not made a leap, and luckily caught it in the air. 

“Be more careful,” said he, as he gave it back to Perseus. 
“It would frighten the birds, up aloft, if they should see a flying 
slipper amongst them.” 

When Perseus had got on both of these wonderful slippers, 
he was altogether too buoyant to tread on earth. Making a step 
or two, lo and behold! upward he popped into the air, high above 
the heads of Quicksilver and the Nymphs, and found it very 
difficult to clamber down again. Winged slippers, and all such 
high-flying contrivances, are seldom quite easy to manage until 
one grows a little accustomed to them. Quicksilver laughed at 
his companion’s involuntary activity, and told him that he must 
not be in so desperate a hurry, but must wait for the invisible 
helmet. 

The good-natured Nymphs had the helmet, with its dark tuft 
of waving plumes, all in readiness to put upon his head. And 
now there happened about as wonderful an incident as anything 
that I have yet told you. The instant before the helmet was put 
on, there stood Perseus, a beautiful young man, with golden 

23 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


ringlets and rosy cheeks, the crooked sword by his side, and the 
brightly polished shield upon his arm, —a figure that seemed 
all made up of courage, sprightliness, and glorious light. But 
when the helmet had descended over his white brow, there was no 
longer any Perseus to be seen! Nothing but empty air! Even 
the helmet, that covered him with its invisibility, had vanished! 

“Where are you, Perseus?” asked Quicksilver. 

“Why, here, to be sure!”’ answered Perseus, very quietly, 
although his voice seemed to come out of the transparent atmos- 
phere. “ Just where I was a moment ago. Don’t you see me?” 

“No, indeed!” answered his friend. “‘ You are hidden under 
the helmet. But, if I cannot see you, neither can the Gorgons. 
Follow me, therefore, and we will try your dexterity in using the 
winged slippers.” 

With these words, Quicksilver’s cap spread its wings, as if 
his head were about to fly away from his shoulders; but his whole 
figure rose lightly into the air, and Perseus followed. By the 
time they had ascended a few hundred feet, the young man began 
to feel what a delightful thing it was to leave the dull earth so 
far beneath him, and to be able to flit about like a bird. 

It was now deep night. Perseus looked upward, and saw 
the round, bright, silvery moon, and thought that he should de- 
sire nothing better than to soar up thither, and spend his life 
there. Then he looked downward again, and saw the earth, with 
its seas and lakes, and the silver courses of its rivers, and its 
snowy mountain-peaks, and the breadth of its fields, and the 
dark cluster of its woods, and its cities of white marble; and, 
with the moonshine sleeping over the whole scene, it was as 
beautiful as the moon or any star could be. And, among other 
objects, he saw the island of Seriphus, where his dear mother 
was. Sometimes he and Quicksilver approached a cloud, that, 
at a distance, looked as if it were made of fleecy silver; although, 
when they plunged into it, they found themselves chilled and 

24 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


moistened with gray mist. So swift was their flight, however, 
that, in an instant, they emerged from the cloud into the moon- 
light again. Once, a high-soaring eagle flew right against the 
invisible Perseus. The bravest sights were the meteors, that 
gleamed suddenly out, as if a bonfire had been kindled in the 
sky, and made the moonshine pale for as much as a hundred 
miles around them. 

As the two companions flew onward, Perseus fancied that 
he could hear the rustle of a garment close by his side; and it 
was on the side opposite to the one where he beheld Quicksilver, 
yet only Quicksilver was visible. 

“Whose garment is this,’ inquired Perseus, “that keeps 
rustling close beside me in the breeze?” 

“Oh, it is my sister’s!” answered Quicksilver. “She is 
coming along with us, as I told you she would. We could do 
nothing without the help of my sister. You have no idea how 
wise she is. She has such eyes, too! Why, she can see you, at 
this moment, just as distinctly as if you were not invisible; 
and Ill venture to say, she will be the first to discover the 
Gorgons.” 

By this time, in their swift voyage through the air, they had 
come within sight of the great ocean, and were soon flying over 
it. Far beneath them, the waves tossed themselves tumultuously 
in mid-sea, or rolled a white surf-line upon the long beaches, or 
foamed against the rocky cliffs, with a roar that was thunderous, 
in the lower world; although it became a gentle murmur, like 
the voice of a baby half asleep, before it reached the ears of 
Perseus. Just then a voice spoke in the air close by him. It 
seemed to be a woman’s voice, and was melodious, though not 
exactly what might be called sweet, but grave and mild. 

“Perseus,” said the voice, “there are the Gorgons.” 

“Where?” exclaimed Perseus. “I cannot see them.” 

“On the shore of that island beneath you,” replied the voice. 

25 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


“A pebble, dropped from your hand, would strike in the midst 
of them.” 

“T told you she would be the first to discover them,” said 
Quicksilver to Perseus. ‘ And there they are!” 

Straight downward, two or three thousand feet below him, 
Perseus perceived a small island, with the sea breaking into white 
foam all around its rocky shore, except on one side, where there 
was a beach of snowy sand. He descended towards it, and, look- 
ing earnestly at a cluster or heap of brightness, at the foot of 
a precipice of black rocks, behold, there were the terrible Gor- 
gons! They lay fast asleep, soothed by the thunder of the sea; 
for it required a tumult that would have deafened everybody else 
to lull such fierce creatures into slumber. The moonlight glis- 
tened on their steely scales, and on their golden wings, which 
drooped idly over the sand. Their brazen claws, horrible to look 
at, were thrust out, and clutched the wave-beaten fragments of 
rock, while the sleeping Gorgons dreamed of tearing some poor 
mortal all to pieces. The snakes that served them instead of 
hair seemed likewise to be asleep; although, now and then, one 
would writhe, and lift its head, and thrust out its forked tongue, 
emitting a drowsy hiss, and then let itself subside among its 
sister snakes, 

The Gorgons were more like an awful, gigantic kind of in- 
sect, — immense, golden-winged beetles, or dragon-flies, or things 
of that sort, — at once ugly and beautiful, — than like anything 
else; only that they were a thousand and a million times as big. 
And, with all this, there was something partly human about them, 
too. Luckily for Perseus, their faces were completely hidden 
from him by the posture in which they lay; for, had he but 
looked one instant at them, he would have fallen heavily out of 
the air, an image of senseless stone. 

“Now,” whispered Quicksilver, as he hovered by the 
side of Perseus, — “now is your time to do the deed! Be 

26 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


quick; or, if one of the Gorgons should awake, you are too 
late!” | 

“Which shall I strike at?” asked Perseus, drawing his sword 
and descending a little lower. “ They all three look alike. All 
three have snaky locks. Which of the three is Medusa?” 

It must be understood that Medusa was the only one of these 
dragon-monsters whose head Perseus could possibly cut off. As 
for the other two, let him have the sharpest sword that ever was 
forged, and he might have hacked away by the hour together, 
without doing them the least harm. 

“ Be cautious,” said the calm voice which had before spoken 
to him. “One of the Gorgons is stirring in her sleep, and is 
just about to turn over. That is Medusa. Do not look at her! 
The sight would turn you to stone! Look at the reflection of 
her face and figure in the bright mirror of your shield.” 

Perseus now understood Quicksilver’s motive for so earnestly 
exhorting him to polish his shield. In its surface he could safely 
look at the reflection of the Gorgon’s face. And there it was, — 
that terrible countenance, — mirrored in the brightness of the 
shield, with the moonlight falling over it, and displaying all its 
horror. ‘The snakes, whose venomous natures could not alto- 
gether sleep, kept twisting themselves over the forehead. It was 
the fiercest and most horrible face that ever was seen or imag- 
ined, and yet with a strange, fearful, and savage kind of beauty 
in it. The eyes were closed, and the Gorgon was still in a deep 
slumber; but there was an unquiet expression disturbing her 
features, as if the monster was troubled with an ugly dream. 
She gnashed her white tusks, and dug into the sand with her 
brazen claws. 

The snakes, too, seemed to feel Medusa’s dream, and to be 
made more restless by it. They twined themselves into tumultu- 
ous knots, writhed fiercely, and uplifted a hundred hissing heads, 
without opening their eyes. 

27 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


“Now, now!” whispered Quicksilver, who was growing im- 
patient. “ Make a dash at the monster!” 

“ But be calm,” said the grave, melodious voice, at the young 
man’s side. “ Look in your shield, as you fly downward, and 
take care that you do not miss your first stroke.” 

Perseus flew cautiously downward, still keeping his eyes on 
Medusa’s face, as reflected in his shield. 'The nearer he came, 
the more terrible did the snaky visage and metallic body of the 
monster grow. At last, when he found himself hovering over 
her within arm’s length, Perseus uplifted his sword, while, at the 
same instant, each separate snake upon the Gorgon’s head 
stretched threateningly upward, and Medusa unclosed her eyes. 
But she awoke too late. The sword was sharp; the stroke fell 
like a ightning-flash; and the head of the wicked Medusa tum- 
bled from her body! 

“Admirably done!” cried Quicksilver. “Make haste, and 
clap the head into your magic wallet.” 

To the astonishment of Perseus, the small, embroidered wallet, 
which he had hung about his neck, and which had hitherto been 
no bigger than a purse, grew all at once large enough to contain 
Medusa’s head. As quick as thought, he snatched it up, with 
the snakes still writhing upon it, and thrust it in. 

“Your task is done,” said the calm voice. “ Now fly; for 
the other Gorgons will do their utmost to take vengeance for 
Medusa’s death.” 

It was, indeed, necessary to take flight; for Perseus had not 
done the deed so quietly but that the clash of his sword, and the 
hissing of the snakes, and the thump of Medusa’s head as it 
tumbled upon the sea-beaten sand, awoke the other two mon- 
sters. There they sat, for an instant, sleepily rubbing their eyes 
with their brazen fingers, while all the snakes on their heads 
reared themselves on end with surprise, and with venomous malice 
against they knew not what. But when the Gorgons saw the 

28 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


scaly carcass of Medusa, headless, and her golden wings all ruf- 
fled, and half spread out on the sand, it was really awful to hear 
what yells and screeches they set up. And then the snakes! 
They sent forth a hundred-fold hiss, with one consent, and Me- 
dusa’s snakes answered them out of the magic wallet. 

No sooner were the Gorgons broad awake than they hurtled 
upward into the air, brandishing their brass talons, gnashing their 
horrible tusks, and flapping their huge wings so wildly, that some 
of the golden feathers were shaken out, and floated down upon 
the shore. And there, perhaps, those very feathers lie scattered, 
till this day. Up rose the Gorgons, as I tell you, staring hor- 
ribly about, in hopes of turning somebody to stone. Had Per- 
seus looked them in the face, or had he fallen into their clutches, 
his poor mother would never have kissed her boy again! But 
he took good care to turn his eyes another way; and, as he wore 
the helmet of invisibility, the Gorgons knew not in what direc- 
tion to follow him; nor did he fail to make the best use of the 
winged slippers, by soaring upward a perpendicular mile or so. 
At that height, when the screams of those abominable creatures 
sounded faintly beneath him, he made a straight course for the 
island of Seriphus, in order to carry Medusa’s head to King 
Polydectes. 

I have no time to tell you of several marvellous things that 
befell Perseus, on his way homeward; such as his killing a hide- 
ous sea-monster, just as it was on the point of devouring a beau- 
tiful maiden; nor how he changed an enormous giant into a 
mountain of stone, merely by showing him the head of the Gor- 
gon. If you doubt this latter story, you may make a voyage to 
Africa, some day or other, and see the very mountain, which is 
still known by the ancient giant’s name. 

Finally, our brave Perseus arrived at the island, where he 
expected to see his dear mother. But, during his absence, the 
wicked king had treated Danaé so very ill that she was compelled 

29 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


to make her escape, and had taken refuge in a temple, where 
some good old priests were extremely kind to her. These praise- 
worthy priests, and the kind-hearted fisherman, who had first 
shown hospitality to Danaé and little Perseus when he found 
them afloat in the chest, seem to have been the only persons on 
the island who cared about doing right. All the rest of the 
people, as well as King Polydectes himself, were remarkably 
ill-behaved, and deserved no better destiny than that which was 
now to happen. 

Not finding his mother at home, Perseus went straight to the 
palace, and was immediately ushered into the presence of the 
king. Polydectes was by no means rejoiced to see him; for he 
had felt almost certain, in his own evil mind, that the Gorgons 
would have torn the poor young man to pieces, and have eaten 
him up, out of the way. However, seeing him safely returned, he 
put the best face he could upon the matter and asked Perseus 
how he had succeeded. 

“Have you performed your promise?” inquired he. “ Have 
you brought me the head of Medusa with the snaky locks? If 
not, young man, it will cost you dear; for I must have a bridal 
present for the beautiful Princess Hippodamia, and there is 
nothing else that she would admire so much.” 

“Yes, please your Majesty,” answered Perseus, in a quiet 
way, as if it were no very wonderful deed for such a young man 
as he to perform. “I have brought you the Gorgon’s head, 
snaky locks and all!” 

“Indeed! Pray let me see it,” quoth King Polydectes. “It 
must be a very curious spectacle, if all that travellers tell about 
it be true!” 

“Your Majesty is in the right,” replied Perseus. “It is 
really an object that will be pretty certain to fix the regards of 
all who look at it. And, if your Majesty think fit, I would sug- 
gest that a holiday be proclaimed, and that all your Majesty’s 

30 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


subjects be summoned to behold this wonderful curiosity. Few 
of them, I imagine, have seen a Gorgon’s head before, and per- 
haps never may again!” 

The king well knew that his subjects were an idle set of 
reprobates, and very fond of sight-seeing, as idle persons usu- 
ally are. So he took the young man’s advice, and sent out 
heralds and messengers, in all directions, to blow the trumpet at 
the street-corners, and in the market-places, and wherever two 
roads met, and summon everybody to court. Thither, accord- 
ingly, came a great multitude of good-for-nothing vagabonds, 
all of whom, out of pure love of mischief, would have been glad 
if Perseus had met with some ill-hap in his encounter with the 
Gorgons. If there were any better people in the island (as I 
really hope there may have been, although the story tells noth- 
ing about any such), they stayed quietly at home, minding their 
business, and taking care of their little children. Most of the 
inhabitants, at all events, ran as fast as they could to the palace, 
and shoved, and pushed, and elbowed one another, in their eager- 
ness to get near a balcony, on which Perseus showed himself, 
holding the embroidered wallet in his hand. 

On a platform, within full view of the balcony, sat the mighty 
King Polydectes, amid his evil counsellors, and with his flatter- 
ing courtiers in a semicircle round about him. Monarch, coun- 
sellors, courtiers, and subjects, all gazed eagerly towards Perseus. 

“‘ Show us the head! Show us the head!” shouted the people; 
and there was a fierceness in their cry as if they would tear Per- 
seus to pieces, unless he should satisfy them with what he had 
to show. ‘“ Show us the head of Medusa with the snaky locks!” 

A feeling of sorrow and pity came over the youthful Perseus. 

“O King Polydectes,” cried he, “and ye many people, I am 
very loath to show you the Gorgon’s head!” 

“* Ah, the villain and coward!” yelled the people, more fiercely 
than before. ‘‘ He is making game of us! He has no Gorgon’s 

31 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


head! Show us the head, if you have it, or we will take your 
own head for a football!” 

The evil counsellors whispered bad advice in the king’s ear; 
the courtiers murmured, with one consent, that Perseus had 
shown disrespect to their royal lord and master; and the great 
King Polydectes himself waved his hand, and ordered him, with 
the stern, deep voice of authority, on his peril, to produce the 
head. 

““ Show me the Gorgon’s head, or I will cut off your own!” 

And Perseus sighed. 

“This instant,” repeated Polydectes, “or you die!” 

“* Behold it, then!’ cried Perseus, in a voice like the blast of 
a trumpet. 

And, suddenly holding up the head, not an eyelid had time 
to wink before the wicked King Polydectes, his evil counsellors, 
and all his fierce subjects were no longer anything but the mere 
images of a monarch and his people. They were all fixed, for- 
ever, in the look and attitude of that moment! At the first 
glimpse of the terrible head of Medusa, they whitened into 
marble! And Perseus thrust the head back into his wallet, and 
went to tell his dear mother that she need no longer be afraid 
of the wicked King Polydectes. 


32 


Tanglewood Porch 


After the Story 


AS not that a very fine story?” asked Eustace. 
\V V “Oh yes, yes!” cried Cowslip, clapping her hands. 
“And those funny old women, with only one eye 
amongst them! I never heard of anything so strange.” 

“ As to their one tooth, which they shifted about,” observed 
Primrose, “there was nothing so very wonderful in that. I 
suppose it was a false tooth. But think of your turning Mer- 
cury into Quicksilver, and talking about his sister! You are too 
ridiculous! ” 

“And was she not his sister?”’ asked Eustace Bright. “If 
I had thought of it sooner, I would have described her as a 
maiden lady, who kept a pet owl!” 

“Well, at any rate,” said Primrose, “your story seems to 
have driven away the mist.” 

And, indeed, while the tale was going forward, the vapors 
had been quite exhaled from the landscape. A scene was now 
disclosed which the spectators might almost fancy as having been 
created since they had last looked in the direction where it lay. 
About half a mile distant, in the lap of the valley, now appeared 
a beautiful lake, which reflected a perfect image of its own 
wooded banks, and of the summits of the more distant hills. It 
gleamed in glassy tranquillity, without the trace of a winged 
breeze on any part of its bosom. Beyond its farther shore was 
Monument Mountain, in a recumbent position, stretching almost 
across the valley. Eustace Bright compared it to a huge, head- 

3 33 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


less sphinx, wrapped in a Persian shawl; and, indeed, so rich and 
diversified was the autumnal foliage of its woods, that the simile 
of the shawl was by no means too high-colored for the reality. 
In the lower ground, between Tanglewood and the lake, the 
clumps of trees and borders of woodland were chiefly golden- 
leaved or dusky brown, as having suffered more from frost than 
the foliage on the hill-sides. 

Over all this scene there was a genial sunshine, intermingled 
with a slight haze, which made it unspeakably soft and tender. 
Oh, what a day of Indian summer was it going to be! The 
children snatched their baskets, and set forth, with hop, skip, and 
jump, and all sorts of frisks and gambols; while Cousin Eustace 
proved his fitness to preside over the party, by outdoing all their 
antics, and performing several new capers, which none of them 
could ever hope to imitate. Behind went a good old dog, whose 
name was Ben. He was one of the most respectable and kind- 
hearted of quadrupeds, and probably felt it to be his duty not 
to trust the children away from their parents without some better 
guardian than this feather-brained Eustace Bright. 


34 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 
Shadow Brook 


Introductory to “The Golden Touch” 


T noon, our juvenile party assembled in a dell, through the 
A depths of which ran a little brook. The dell was narrow, 
and its steep sides, from the margin of the stream up- 
ward, were thickly set with trees, chiefly walnuts and chestnuts, 
among which grew a few oaks and maples. In the summer time, 
the shade of so many clustering branches, meeting and inter- 
mingling across the rivulet, was deep enough to produce a noon- 
tide twilight. Hence came the name of Shadow Brook. But 
now, ever since autumn had crept into this secluded place, all 
the dark verdure was changed to gold, so that it really kindled 
up the dell, instead of shading it. The bright yellow leaves, 
even had it been a cloudy day, would have seemed to keep the 
sunlight among them; and enough of them had fallen to strew 
all the bed and margin of the brook with sunlight, too. Thus 
the shady nook, where summer had cooled herself, was now the 
sunniest spot anywhere to be found. 

The little brook ran along over its pathway of gold, here 
pausing to form a pool, in which minnows were darting to and 
fro; and then it hurried onward at a swifter pace, as if in haste 
to reach the lake; and, forgetting to look whither it went, it 
tumbled over the root of a tree, which stretched quite across its 
current. You would have laughed to hear how noisily it bab- 
bled about this accident. And even after it had run onward, the 

35 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


brook still kept talking to itself, as if it were in a maze. It was 
wonder-smitten, I suppose, at finding its dark dell so illuminated, 
and at hearing the prattle and merriment of so many children. 
So it stole away as quickly as it could, and hid itself in the lake. 

In the dell of Shadow Brook, Eustace Bright and his little 
friends had eaten their dinner. They had brought plenty of 
good things from Tanglewood, in their baskets, and had spread 
them out on the stumps of trees, and on mossy trunks, and had 
feasted merrily, and made a very nice dinner indeed. After it 
was over, nobody felt like stirring. 

“We will rest ourselves here,” said several of the children, 
“‘ while Cousin Eustace tells us another of his pretty stories.” 

Cousin Eustace had a good right to be tired, as well as the 
children, for he had performed great feats on that memorable 
forenoon. Dandelion, Clover, Cowslip, and Buttercup were al- 
most persuaded that he had winged slippers, like those which the 
Nymphs gave Perseus; so often had the student shown himself 
at the tiptop of a nut-tree, when only a moment before he had 
been standing on the ground. And then, what showers of wal- 
nuts had he sent rattling down upon their heads, for their busy 
little hands to gather into the baskets! In short, he had been 
as active as a squirrel or a monkey, and now, flinging himself 
down on the yellow leaves, seemed inclined to take a little rest. 

But children have no mercy nor consideration for anybody’s 
weariness; and if you had but a single breath left, they would 
ask you to spend it in telling them a story. 

“Cousin Eustace,” said Cowslip, “that was a very nice story 
of the Gorgon’s Head. Do you think you could tell us another 
as good?” 

“Yes, child,” said Eustace, pulling the brim of his cap over 
his eyes, as if preparing for a nap. “I can tell you a dozen, as 
good or better, if I choose.” 

‘‘O Primrose and Periwinkle, do you hear what he says?” 

36 


SHADOW BROOK 


cried Cowslip, dancing with delight. ‘‘ Cousin Eustace is going 
to tell us a dozen better stories than that about the Gorgon’s 
Head!” 

“TI did not promise you even one, you foolish little Cow- 
slip!” said Kustace, half pettishly. “ However, I suppose you 
must have it. This is the consequence of having earned a repu- 
tation! I wish I were a great deal duller than I am, or that I 
had never shown half the bright qualities with which nature has 
endowed me; and then I might have my nap out, in peace and 
comfort! ” 

But Cousin Eustace, as I think I have hinted before, was 
as fond of telling his stories as the children of hearing them. His 
mind was in a free and happy state, and took delight in its own 
activity, and scarcely required any external impulse to set it at 
work. 

How different is this spontaneous play of the intellect from the 
trained diligence of maturer years, when toil has perhaps grown 
easy by long habit, and the day’s work may have become essen- 
tial to the day’s comfort, although the rest of the matter has 
bubbled away! This remark, however, is not meant for the 
children to hear. 

Without further solicitation, Kustace Bright proceeded to tell 
the following really splendid story. It had come into his mind 
as he lay looking upward into the depths of a tree, and observ- 
ing how the touch of Autumn had transmuted every one of its 
green leaves into what resembled the purest gold. And this 
change, which we have all of us witnessed, is as wonderful as 
anything that Eustace told about in the story of Midas. 


37 


The Golden Touch 


NCE upon a time, there lived a very rich man, and a 

() king besides, whose name was Midas; and he had a 

little daughter, whom nobody but myself ever heard of, 

and whose name I either never knew, or have entirely forgotten. 

So, because I love odd names for little girls, I choose to call her 
Marygold. 

This King Midas was fonder of gold than of anything else 
in the world. He valued his royal crown chiefly because it was 
composed of that precious metal. If he loved anything better, 
or half so well, it was the one little maiden who played so mer- 
rily around her father’s footstool. But the more Midas loved 
his daughter, the more did he desire and seek for wealth. He 
thought, foolish man! that the best thing he could possibly do 
for this dear child would be to bequeath her the immensest pile 
of yellow, glistening coin, that had ever been heaped together 
since the world was made. Thus, he gave all his thoughts and 
all his time to this one purpose. If ever he happened to gaze 
for an instant at the gold-tinted clouds of sunset, he wished that 
they were real gold, and that they could be squeezed safely into 
his strong box. When little Marygold ran to meet him, with 
a bunch of buttercups and dandelions, he used to say, “ Poh, poh, 
child! If these flowers were as golden as they look, they would 
be worth the plucking!” 

And yet, in his earlier days, before he was so entirely pos- 
sessed of this insane desire for riches, King Midas had shown 
a great taste for flowers. He had planted a garden, in which 

38 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


grew the biggest and beautifullest and sweetest roses that any 
mortal ever saw or smelt. These roses were still growing in the 
garden, as large, as lovely, and as fragrant, as when Midas used 
to pass whole hours in gazing at them, and inhaling their per- 
fume. But now, if he looked at them at all, it was only to 
calculate how much the garden would be worth if each of the 
innumerable rose-petals were a thin plate of gold. And though 
he once was fond of music (in spite of an idle story about his 
ears, which were said to resemble those of an ass), the only 
music for poor Midas, now, was the chink of one coin against 
another. 

At length (as people always grow more and more foolish, 
unless they take care to grow wiser and wiser, Midas had got 
to be so exceedingly unreasonable, that he could scarcely bear 
to see or touch any object that was not gold. He made it his 
custom, therefore, to pass a large portion of every day in a dark 
and dreary apartment, under ground, at the basement of his 
palace. It was here that he kept his wealth. 'To this dismal hole 
— for it was little better than a dungeon — Midas betook him- 
self, whenever he wanted to be particularly happy. Here, after 
carefully locking the door, he would take a bag of gold coin, or 
a gold cup as big as a washbowl, or a heavy golden bar, or a 
peck-measure of gold-dust, and bring them from the obscure 
corners of the room into the one bright and narrow sunbeam that 
fell from the dungeon-like window. He valued the sunbeam for 
no other reason but that his treasure would not shine without its 
help. And then would he reckon over the coins in the bag; toss 
up the bar, and catch it as it came down; sift the gold-dust 
through his fingers; look at the funny image of his own face, as 
reflected in the burnished circumference of the cup; and whis- 
per to himself, “OQ Midas, rich King Midas, what a happy man 
art thou!” But it was laughable to see how the image of his 
face kept grinning at him, out of the polished surface of the 

39 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


cup. It seemed to be aware of his foolish behavior, and to have 
a naughty inclination to make fun of him. 

Midas called himself a happy man, but felt that he was not 
yet quite so happy as he might be. The very tiptop of enjoy- 
ment would never be reached, unless the whole world were to 
become his treasure-room, and be filled with yellow metal which 
should be all his own. 

Now, I need hardly remind such wise little people as you 
are, that in the old, old times, when King Midas was alive, a 
great many things came to pass, which we should consider won- 
derful if they were to happen in our own day and country. And, 
on the other hand, a great many things take place nowadays, 
which seem not only wonderful to us, but at which the people 
of old times would have stared their eyes out. On the whole, 
I regard our own times as the strangest of the two; but, how- 
ever that may be, I must go on with my story. 

Midas was enjoying himself in his treasure-room, one day, 
as usual, when he perceived a shadow fall over the heaps of gold; 
and, looking suddenly up, what should he behold but the figure 
of a stranger, standing in the bright and narrow sunbeam! It 
was a young man, with a cheerful and ruddy face. Whether 
it was that the imagination of King Midas threw a yellow tinge 
over everything, or whatever the cause might be, he could not 
help fancying that the smile with which the stranger regarded 
him had a kind of golden radiance in it. Certainly, although his 
figure intercepted the sunshine, there was now a brighter gleam 
upon all the piled-up treasures than before. Even the remotest 
corners had their share of it, and were lighted up, when the 
stranger smiled, as with tips of flame and sparkles of fire. 

As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key in the 
lock, and that no mortal strength could possibly break into his 
treasure-room, he, of course, concluded that his visitor must be 
something more than mortal. It is no matter about telling you 

40 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


who he was. In those days, when the earth was comparatively 
a new affair, it was supposed to be often the resort of beings 
endowed with supernatural power, and who used to interest 
themselves in the joys and sorrows of men, women, and children, 
half playfully and half seriously. Midas had met such beings 
before now, and was not sorry to meet one of them again. The | 
stranger’s aspect, indeed, was so good-humored and kindly, if 
not beneficent, that it would have been unreasonable to suspect 
him of intending any mischief. It was far more probable that 
he came to do Midas a favor. And what could that favor be, 
unless to multiply his heaps of treasure? 

The stranger gazed about the room; and when his lustrous 
smile had glistened upon all the golden objects that were there, 
he turned again to Midas. 

“You are a wealthy man, friend Midas!” he observed. “I 
doubt whether any other four walls, on earth, contain so much 
gold as you have contrived to pile up in this room.” 

“‘T have done pretty well, — pretty well,’ answered Midas, 
in a discontented tone. “ But, after all, it is but a trifle, when 
you consider that it has taken me my whole life to get it together. 
If one could live a thousand years, he might have time to grow 
mich |. 

“What!” exclaimed the stranger. “Then you are not 
satisfied? ” 

Midas shook his head. 

“And pray what would satisfy you?” asked the stranger. 
“Merely for the curiosity of the thing, I should be glad to 
know.” 

Midas paused and meditated. He felt a presentiment that 
this stranger, with such a golden lustre in his good-humored 
smile, had come hither with both the power and the purpose of 
gratifying his utmost wishes. Now, therefore, was the fortunate 
moment, when he had but to speak, and obtain whatever possible, 

41 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


or seemingly impossible, thing it might come into his head to ask. 
So he thought, and thought, and thought, and heaped up one 
golden mountain upon another, in his imagination, without being 
able to imagine them big enough. At last, a bright idea oc- 
curred to King Midas. It seemed really as bright as the glisten- 
ing metal which he loved so much. 

Raising his head, he looked the lustrous stranger in the face. 

“Well, Midas,” observed his visitor, “I see that you have at 
length hit upon something that will satisfy you. Tell me your 
wish.” 

“Tt is only this,” replied Midas. “TI am weary of collecting 
my treasures with so much trouble, and beholding the heap so 
diminutive, after I have done my best. I wish everything that 
I touch to be changed to gold!” 

The stranger’s smile grew so very broad, that it seemed to 
fill the room like an outburst of the sun, gleaming into a shadowy 
dell, where the yellow autumnal leaves — for so looked the lumps 
and particles of gold — lie strewn in the glow of light. 

“The Golden Touch!” exclaimed he. “ You certainly de- 
serve credit, friend Midas, for striking out so brilliant a con- 
ception. But are you quite sure that this will satisfy you?” 

“ Flow could it fail?” said Midas. 

“And will you never regret the possession of it?” 

“What could induce me?” asked Midas. “I ask nothing 
else, to render me perfectly happy.” 

“Be it as you wish, then,” replied the stranger, waving his 
hand in token of farewell. ‘“ To-morrow, at sunrise, you will find 
yourself gifted with the Golden Touch.” 

The figure of the stranger then became exceedingly bright, 
and Midas involuntarily closed his eyes. On opening them again, 
he beheld only one yellow sunbeam in the room, and, all around 
him, the glistening of the precious metal which he had spent his 
life in hoarding up. 

42 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


Whether Midas slept as usual that night, the story does not 
say. Asleep or awake, however, his mind was probably in the 
state of a child’s, to whom a beautiful new plaything has been 
promised in the morning. At any rate, day had hardly peeped 
over the hills, when King Midas was broad awake, and, stretch- 
ing his arms out of bed, began to touch the objects that were 
within reach. He was anxious to prove whether the Golden 
Touch had really come, according to the stranger’s promise. So 
he laid his finger on a chair by the bedside, and on various other 
things, but was grievously disappointed to perceive that they 
remained of exactly the same substance as before. Indeed, he 
felt very much afraid that he had only dreamed about the lus- 
trous stranger, or else that the latter had been making game of 
him. And what a miserable affair would it be, if, after all his 
hopes, Midas must content himself with what little gold he could 
scrape together by ordinary means, instead of creating it by a 
touch! 

All this while, it was only the gray of the morning, with but 
a streak of brightness along the edge of the sky, where Midas 
could not see it. He lay in a very disconsolate mood, regretting 
the downfall of his hopes, and kept growing sadder and sadder, 
until the earliest sunbeam shone through the window, and gilded 
the ceiling over his head. It seemed to Midas that this bright 
yellow sunbeam was reflected in rather a singular way on the 
white covering of the bed. Looking more closely, what was his 
astonishment and delight, when he found that this linen fabric 
had been transmuted to what seemed a woven texture of the 
purest and brightest gold! The Golden Touch had come to him 
with the first sunbeam! 

Midas started up, in a kind of joyful frenzy, and ran about 
the room, grasping at everything that happened to be in his way. 
He seized one of the bed-posts, and it became immediately a 
fluted golden pillar. He pulled aside a window-curtain, in order 

43 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


to admit a clear spectacle of the wonders which he was perform- 
ing; and the tassel grew heavy in his hand, —a mass of gold. 
He took up a book from the table. At his first touch, it as- 
sumed the appearance of such a splendidly bound and gilt-edged 
volume as one often meets with, nowadays; but, on running his 
fingers through the leaves, behold! it was a bundle of thin golden 
plates, in which all the wisdom of the book had grown illegible. 
He hurriedly put on his clothes, and was enraptured to see him- 
self in a magnificent suit of gold cloth, which retained its flexi- 
bility and softness, although it burdened him a little with its 
weight. He drew out his handkerchief, which little Marygold 
had hemmed for him. That was likewise gold, with the dear 
child’s neat and pretty stitches running all along the border, in 
gold thread! 

Somehow or other, this last transformation did not quite please 
King Midas. He would rather that his little daughter’s handi- 
work should have remained just the same as when she climbed 
his knee and put it into his hand. 

But it was not worth while to vex himself about a trifle. 
Midas now took his spectacles from his pocket, and put them on 
his nose, in order that he might see more distinctly what he was 
about. In those days, spectacles for common people had not 
been invented, but were already worn by kings; else, how could 
Midas have had any? To his great perplexity, however, excel- 
lent as the glasses were, he discovered that he could not possibly 
see through them. But this was the most natural thing in the 
world; for, on taking them off, the transparent crystals turned 
out to be plates of yellow metal, and, of course, were worthless 
as spectacles, though valuable as gold. It struck Midas as rather 
inconvenient that, with all his wealth, he could never again be 
rich enough to own a pair of serviceable spectacles. 

“It is no great matter, nevertheless,” said he to himself, very 
philosophically. ‘We cannot expect any great good, without 

44 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


its being accompanied with some small inconvenience. The 
Golden Touch is worth the sacrifice of a pair of spectacles, at 
least, if not of one’s very eyesight. My own eyes will serve for 
ordinary purposes, and little Marygold will soon be old enough 
to read to me.” 

Wise King Midas was so exalted by his good fortune, that 
the palace seemed not sufficiently spacious to contain him. He 
therefore went down stairs, and smiled, on observing that the 
balustrade of the staircase became a bar of burnished gold, as his 
hand passed over it, in his descent. He lifted the door-latch (it 
was brass only a moment ago, but golden when his fingers quitted 
it), and emerged into the garden. MHere, as it happened, he 
found a great number of beautiful roses in full bloom, and others 
in all the stages of lovely bud and blossom. Very delicious was 
their fragrance in the morning breeze. Their delicate blush was 
one of the fairest sights in the world; so gentle, so modest, and 
so full of sweet tranquillity, did these roses seem to be. 

But Midas knew a way to make them far more precious, ac- 
cording to his way of thinking, than roses had ever been before. 
So he took great pains in going from bush to bush, and exercised 
his magic touch most indefatigably; until every individual flower 
and bud, and even the worms at the heart of some of them, were 
changed to gold. By the time this good work was completed, 
King Midas was summoned to breakfast; and as the morning 
air had given him an excellent appetite, he made haste back to 
the palace. 

What was usually a king’s breakfast in the days of Midas, 
I really do not know, and cannot stop now to investigate. To 
the best of my belief, however, on this particular morning, the 
breakfast consisted of hot cakes, some nice little brook trout, 
roasted potatoes, fresh boiled eggs, and coffee, for King Midas 
himself, and a bowl of bread and milk for his daughter Mary- 
gold. At all events, this is a breakfast fit to set before a king; 

45 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


and, whether he had it or not, King Midas could not have had 
a better. 

Little Marygold had not yet made her appearance. Her 
father ordered her to be called, and, seating himself at table, 
awaited the child’s coming, in order to begin his own breakfast. 
To do Midas justice, he really loved his daughter, and loved her 
so much the more this morning, on account of the good fortune 
which had befallen him. It was not a great while before he 
heard her coming along the passageway crying bitterly. This 
circumstance surprised him, because Marygold was one of the 
cheerfullest little people whom you would see in a summer’s day, 
and hardly shed a thimbleful of tears in a twelvemonth. When 
Midas heard her sobs, he determined to put little Marygold into 
better spirits, by an agreeable surprise; so, leaning across the 
table, he touched his daughter’s bowl (which was a China one, 
with pretty figures all around it), and transmuted it to gleam- 
ing gold. 

Meanwhile, Marygold slowly and disconsolately opened the 
door, and showed herself with her apron at her eyes, still sobbing 
as if her heart would break. 

“How now, my little lady!” cried Midas. “ Pray what is 
the matter with you, this bright morning? ” 

Marygold, without taking the apron from her eyes, held out 
her hand, in which was one of the roses which Midas had so 
recently transmuted. 

“ Beautiful!” exclaimed her father. ‘‘ And what is there in 
this magnificent golden rose to make you cry?” 

“Ah, dear father!’ answered the child, as well as her sobs 
would let her; “it is not beautiful, but the ugliest flower that 
ever grew! As soon as I was dressed I ran into the garden to 
gather some roses for you; because I know you like them, and 
like them the better when gathered by your little daughter. But, 
oh dear, dear me! What do you think has happened? Such a 

46 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


misfortune! All the beautiful roses, that smelled so sweetly 
and had so many lovely blushes, are blighted and_ spoilt! 
They are grown quite yellow, as you see this one, and have no 
longer any fragrance! What can have been the matter with 
them?” 

“Poh, my dear little girl, — pray don’t cry about it!” said 
Midas, who was ashamed to confess that he himself had wrought 
the change which so greatly afflicted her. “Sit down and eat 
your bread and milk! You will find it easy enough to exchange 
a golden rose like that (which will last hundreds of years) for 
an ordinary one which would wither in a day.” 

“T don’t care for such roses as this!” cried Marygold, toss- 
ing it contemptuously away. “It has no smell, and the hard 
petals prick my nose!” 

The child now sat down to table, but was so occupied with 
her grief for the blighted roses that she did not even notice the 
wonderful transmutation of her China bowl. Perhaps this was 
all the better; for Marygold was accustomed to take pleasure 
in looking at the queer figures, and strange trees and houses, that 
were painted on the circumference of the bowl; and these or- 
naments were now entirely lost in the yellow hue of the 
metal. 

Midas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee, and, as 
a matter of course, the coffee-pot, whatever metal it may have 
been when he took it up, was gold when he set it down. He 
thought to himself, that it was rather an extravagant style of 
splendor, in a king of his simple habits, to breakfast off a service 
of gold, and began to be puzzled with the difficulty of keeping 
his treasures safe. The cupboard and the kitchen would no 
longer be a secure place of deposit for articles so valuable as 
golden bowls and coffee-pots. 

Amid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful of coffee to his lips, 
and, sipping it, was astonished to perceive that, the instant his 

47 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


lips touched the liquid, it became molten gold, and, the next 
moment, hardened into a lump! 

“Ha!” exclaimed Midas, rather aghast. 

“ What is the matter, father?” asked little Marygold, gazing 
at him, with the tears still standing in her eyes. 

“ Nothing, child, nothing!” said Midas. “ Eat your milk, 
before it gets quite cold.” 

He took one of the nice little trouts on his plate, and, by way 
of experiment, touched its tail with his finger. To his horror, 
it was immediately transmuted from an admirably fried brook- 
trout into a gold-fish, though not one of those gold-fishes which 
people often keep in glass globes, as ornaments for the parlor. 
No; but it was really a metallic fish, and looked as if it had been 
very cunningly made by the nicest goldsmith in the world. Its 
little bones were now golden wires; its fins and tail were thin 
plates of gold; and there were the marks of the fork in it, and 
all the delicate, frothy appearance of a nicely fried fish, exactly 
imitated in metal. A very pretty piece of work, as you may 
suppose; only King Midas, just at that moment, would much 
rather have had a real trout in his dish than this elaborate and 
valuable imitation of one. 

“I don’t quite see,” thought he to himself, “how I am to get 
any breakfast!” 

He took one of the smoking-hot cakes, and had scarcely 
broken it, when, to his cruel mortification, though, a moment be- 
fore, it had been of the whitest wheat, it assumed the yellow hue 
of Indian meal. To say the truth, if it had really been a hot 
Indian cake, Midas would have prized it a good deal more than 
he now did, when its solidity and increased weight made him too 
bitterly sensible that it was gold. Almost in despair, he helped 
himself to a boiled egg, which immediately underwent a change 
similar to those of the trout and the cake. The egg, indeed, 
might have been mistaken for one of those which the famous 

48 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


goose, in the story-book, was in the habit of laying; but King 
Midas was the only goose that had had anything to do with the 
matter. 

“Well, this is a quandary!” thought he, leaning back in his 
chair, and looking quite enviously at little Marygold, who was 
now eating her bread and milk with great satisfaction. “ Such 
a costly breakfast before me, and nothing that can be eaten!” 

Hoping that, by dint of great dispatch, he might avoid what 
he now felt to be a considerable inconvenience, King Midas next 
snatched a hot potato, and attempted to cram it into his mouth, 
and swallow it in a hurry. But the Golden Touch was too 
nimble for him. He found his mouth full, not of mealy potato, 
but of solid metal, which so burnt his tongue that he roared 
aloud, and, jumping up from the table, began to dance and 
stamp about the room, both with pain and affright. 

“Father, dear father!” cried little Marygold, who was a very 
affectionate child, “ pray what is the matter? Have you burnt 
your mouth?” 

“Ah, dear child,” groaned Midas, dolefully, “I don’t know 
what is to become of your poor father!” 

And, truly, my dear little folks, did you ever hear of such 
a pitiable case in all your lives? Here was literally the richest 
breakfast that could be set before a king, and its very richness 
made it absolutely good for nothing. The poorest laborer, sit- 
ting down to his crust of bread and cup of water, was far better 
off than King Midas, whose delicate food was really worth its 
weight in gold. And what was to be done? Already, at break- 
fast, Midas was excessively hungry. Would he be less so by 
dinner-time? And how ravenous would be his appetite for 
supper, which must undoubtedly consist of the same sort of in- 
digestible dishes as those now before him! How many days, 
think you, would he survive a continuance of this rich fare? 

These reflections so troubled wise King Midas, that he began 

4 49 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


to doubt whether, after all, riches are the one desirable thing in 
the world, or even the most desirable. But this was only a pass- 
ing thought. So fascinated was Midas with the glitter of the 
yellow metal, that he would still have refused to give up the 
Golden Touch for so paltry a consideration as a breakfast. Just 
imagine what a price for one meal’s victuals! It would have 
been the same as paying millions and millions of money (and 
as many millions more as would take forever to reckon up) for 
some fried trout, an egg, a potato, a hot cake, and a cup of 
coffee! 

“It would be quite too dear,” thought Midas. 

Nevertheless, so great was his hunger, and the perplexity of 
his situation, that he again groaned aloud, and very grievously 
too. Our pretty Marygold could endure it no longer. She sat, 
a moment, gazing at her father, and trying, with all the might 
of her little wits, to find out what was the matter with him. Then, 
with a sweet and sorrowful impulse to comfort him, she started 
from her chair, and, running to Midas, threw her arms affec- 
tionately about his knees. He bent down and kissed her. He 
felt that his little daughter’s love was worth a thousand times 
more than he had gained by the Golden Touch. 

“My precious, precious Marygold! ” cried he. 

But Marygold made no answer. 

Alas, what had he done? How fatal was the gift which the 
stranger bestowed! ‘The moment the lips of Midas touched 
Marygold’s forehead, a change had taken place. Her sweet, 
rosy face, so full of affection as it had been, assumed a glittering 
yellow color, with yellow tear-drops congealing on her cheeks. 
Her beautiful brown ringlets took the same tint. Her soft and 
tender little form grew hard and inflexible within her father’s 
encircling arms. Oh, terrible misfortune! The victim of his in- 
satiable desire for wealth, little Marygold was a human child 
no longer, but a golden statue! 

50 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


Yes, there she was, with the questioning look of love, grief, 
and pity, hardened into her face. It was the prettiest and most 
woful sight that ever mortal saw. All the features and tokens 
of Marygold were there; even the beloved little dimple remained 
in her golden chin. But, the more perfect was the resemblance, 
the greater was the father’s agony at beholding this golden 
image, which was all that was left him of a daughter. It had 
been a favorite phrase of Midas, whenever he felt particularly 
fond of the child, to say that she was worth her weight in gold. 
And now the phrase had become literally true. And now, at 
last, when it was too late, he felt how infinitely a warm and tender 
heart, that loved him, exceeded in value all the wealth that could 
be piled up betwixt the earth and sky! 

It would be too sad a story, if I were to tell you how Midas, 
in the fulness of all his gratified desires, began to wring his hands 
and bemoan himself; and how he could neither bear to look at 
Marygold, nor yet to look away from her. Except when his eyes 
were fixed on the image, he could not possibly believe that she 
was changed to gold. But, stealing another glance, there was 
the precious little figure, with a yellow tear-drop on its yellow 
cheek, and a look so piteous and tender, that it seemed as if that 
very expression must needs soften the gold, and make it flesh 
again. This, however, could not be. So Midas had only to wring 
his hands, and to wish that he were the poorest man in the wide 
world, if the loss of all his wealth might bring back the faintest 
rose-color to his dear child’s face. 

While he was in this tumult of despair, he suddenly beheld 
a stranger standing near the door. Midas bent down his head, 
without speaking; for he recognized the same figure which had 
appeared to him, the day before, in the treasure-room, and had 
bestowed on him this disastrous faculty of the Golden Touch. 
The stranger’s countenance still wore a smile, which seemed to 
shed a yellow lustre all about the room, and gleamed on little 

51 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


Marygold’s image, and on the other objects that had been trans- 
muted by the touch of Midas. 

“Well, friend Midas,” said the stranger, “ pray how do you 
succeed with the Golden Touch?” 

Midas shook his head. 

““T am very miserable,” said he. 

‘““Very miserable, indeed!” exclaimed the stranger. “ And 
how happens that? Have I not faithfully kept my promise with 
you? Have you not everything that your heart desired?” 

“Gold is not everything,’ answered Midas. “ And I have 
lost all that my heart really cared for.” 

“Ah! So you have made a discovery, since yesterday?” 
observed the stranger. ‘“ Let us see, then. Which of these two 
things do you think is really worth the most, — the gift of the 
Golden Touch, or one cup of clear cold water?” 

“O blessed water!” exclaimed Midas. “ It will never moisten 
my parched throat again!” 

“The Golden Touch,” continued the stranger, “or a crust of 
bread?” 

“A piece of bread,” answered Midas, “is worth all the gold 
on earth!” 

‘“'The Golden Touch,” asked the stranger, “ or your own little 
Marygold, warm, soft, and loving as she was an hour ago?” 

“Oh my child, my dear child!” cried poor Midas, wringing 
his hands. ‘I would not have given that one small dimple in 
her chin for the power of changing this whole big earth into a 
solid lump of gold!” 

“You are wiser than you were, King Midas!” said the 
stranger, looking seriously at him. “ Your own heart, I per- 
ceive, has not been entirely changed from flesh to gold. Were 
it so, your case would indeed be desperate. But you appear to 
be still capable of understanding that the commonest things, such 
as lie within everybody’s grasp, are more valuable than the riches 

52 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


which so many mortals sigh and struggle after. Tell me, now, 
do you sincerely desire to rid yourself of this Golden Touch?” 

“It is hateful to me!” replied Midas. 

A fly settled on his nose, but immediately fell to the floor; 
for it, too, had become gold. Midas shuddered. 

“Go, then,” said the stranger, “and plunge into the river 
that glides past the bottom of your garden. Take likewise a vase 
of the same water, and sprinkle it over any object that you may 
desire to change back again from gold into its former substance. 
If you do this in earnestness and sincerity, it may possibly re- 
pair the mischief which your avarice has occasioned.” 

King Midas bowed low; and when he lifted his head, the 
lustrous stranger had vanished. 

You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in snatching 
up a great earthen pitcher (but, alas me! it was no longer 
earthen after he touched it), and hastening to the river-side. As 
he scampered along, and forced his way through the shrubbery, 
it was positively marvellous to see how the foliage turned yellow 
behind him, as if the autumn had been there, and nowhere else. 
On reaching the river’s brink, he plunged headlong in, without 
waiting so much as to pull off his shoes. 

“Poof! poof! poof!” snorted King Midas, as his head 
emerged out of the water. “Well; this is really a refreshing 
bath, and I think it must have quite washed away the Golden 
Touch. And now for filling my pitcher!” 

As he dipped the pitcher into the water, it gladdened his very 
heart to see it change from gold into the same good, honest 
earthen vessel which it had been before he touched it. He was 
conscious, also, of a change within himself. A cold, hard, and 
heavy weight seemed to have gone out of his bosom. No doubt, 
his heart had been gradually losing its human substance, and 
transmuting itself into insensible metal, but had now softened 
back again into flesh. Perceiving a violet, that grew on the bank 

53 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


of the river, Midas touched it with his finger, and was overjoyed 
to find that the delicate flower retained its purple hue, instead 
of undergoing a yellow blight. The curse of the Golden Touch 
had, therefore, really been removed from him. 

King Midas hastened back to the palace; and, I suppose, 
the servants knew not what to make of it when they saw their 
royal master so carefully bringing home an earthen pitcher of 
water. But that water, which was to undo all the mischief that 
his folly had wrought, was more precious to Midas than an ocean 
of molten gold could have been. The first thing he did, as you 
need hardly be told, was to sprinkle it by handfuls over the golden 
figure of little Marygold. 

No sooner did it fall on her than you would have laughed to 
see how the rosy color came back to the dear child’s cheek! and 
how she began to sneeze and sputter! — and how astonished she 
was to find herself dripping wet, and her father still throwing 
more water over her! 

“Pray do not, dear father!” cried she. “See how you have 
wet my nice frock, which I put on only this morning!” 

For Marygold did not know that she had been a little golden 
statue; nor could she remember anything that had happened 
since the moment when she ran with outstretched arms to com- 
fort poor King Midas. 

Her father did not think it necessary to tell his beloved child 
how very foolish he had been, but contented himself with show- 
ing how much wiser he had now grown. For this purpose, he 
led little Marygold into the garden, where he sprinkled all the 
remainder of the water over the rose-bushes, and with such good 
effect that above five thousand roses recovered their beautiful 
bloom. There were two circumstances, however, which, as long 
as he lived, used to put King Midas in mind of the Golden Touch. 
One was, that the sands of the river sparkled like gold; the other, 
that little Marygold’s hair had now a golden tinge, which he had 

54 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


never observed in it before she had been transmuted by the effect 
of his kiss. This change of hue was really an improvement, and 
made Marygold’s hair richer than in her babyhood. 

When King Midas had grown quite an old man, and used 
to trot Marygold’s children on his knee, he was fond of telling 
them this marvellous story, pretty much as I have now told it 
to you. And then would he stroke their glossy ringlets, and tell 
them that their hair, likewise, had a rich shade of gold, which 
they had inherited from their mother. 

“And to tell you the truth, my precious little folks,” quoth 
King Midas, diligently trotting the children all the while, “ ever 
since that morning, I have hated the very sight of all other gold, 
save this!”’ 


Shadow Brook 


After the Story 


ef \ N J ELL, children,” inquired Eustace, who was very fond 


of eliciting a definite opinion from his auditors, “ did 
you ever, in all your lives, listen to a better story 
than this of ‘ The Golden Touch?” 

“Why, as to the story of King Midas,” said saucy Primrose, 
“it was a famous one thousands of years before Mr. Eustace 
Bright came into the world, and will continue to be so as long 
after he quits it. But some people have what we may call ‘ The 
Leaden Touch,’ and make everything dull and heavy that they 
lay their fingers upon.” 

“You are a smart child, Primrose, to be not yet in your 
teens,” said Eustace, taken rather aback by the piquancy of her 
criticism. “But you well know, in your naughty little heart, 
that I have burnished the old gold of Midas all over anew, and 
have made it shine as it never shone before. And then that figure 
of Marygold! Do you perceive no nice workmanship in that? 
And how finely I have brought out and deepened the moral! 
What say you, Sweet Fern, Dandelion, Clover, Periwinkle? 
Would any of you, after hearing this story, be so foolish as to 
desire the faculty of changing things to gold?” 

“T should like,” said Periwinkle, a girl of ten, “to have the 
power of turning everything to gold with my right forefinger; 
but, with my left forefinger, I should want the power of chang- 
ing it back again, if the first change did not please me. And I 
know what I would do, this very afternoon!” 

56 


SHADOW BROOK 


“Pray tell me,” said Eustace. | 

“ Why,” answered Periwinkle, “I would touch every one of 
these golden leaves on the trees with my left forefinger, and 
make them all green again; so that we might have the summer 
back at once, with no ugly winter in the mean time.” 

“O Periwinkle!” cried Eustace Bright, “there you are 
wrong, and would do a great deal of mischief. Were I Midas, 
I would make nothing else but just such golden days as these 
over and over again, all the year throughout. My best thoughts 
always come a little too late. Why did not I tell you how old 
King Midas came to America, and changed the dusky autumn, 
such as it is in other countries, into the burnished beauty which 
it here puts on? He gilded the leaves of the great volume of 
Nature.” 

“ Cousin Eustace,” said Sweet Fern, a good little boy, who 
was always making particular inquiries about the precise height 
of giants and the littleness of fairies, “ how big was Marygold, 
and how much did she weigh after she was turned to gold?” 

“She was about as tall as you are,” replied Eustace, “ and, 
as gold is very heavy, she weighed at least two thousand pounds, 
and might have been coined into thirty or forty thousand gold 
dollars. I wish Primrose were worth half as much. Come, little 
people, let us clamber out of the dell, and look about us.” 

They did so. The sun was now an hour or two beyond its 
noontide mark, and filled the great hollow of the valley with its 
western radiance, so that it seemed to be brimming with mellow 
light, and to spill it over the surrounding hill-sides, like golden 
wine out of a bowl. It was such a day that you could not help 
saying of it, “ There never was such a day before! ” although 
yesterday was just such a day, and to-morrow will be just such 
another. Ah, but there are very few of them in a twelvemonth’s 
circle! It is a remarkable peculiarity of these October days, that 
each of them seems to occupy a great deal of space, although 

57 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


the sun rises rather tardily at that season of the year, and goes 
to bed, as little children ought, at sober six o’clock, or even 
earlier. We cannot, therefore, call the days long; but they ap- 
pear, somehow or other, to make up for their shortness by their 
breadth; and when the cool night comes, we are conscious of 
having enjoyed a big armful of life, since morning. 

“ Come, children, come!” cried Eustace Bright. ‘More nuts, 
more nuts, more nuts! Fill all your baskets; and, at Christmas 
time, I will crack them for you, and tell you beautiful stories! ” 

So away they went; all of them in excellent spirits, except 
little Dandelion, who, I am sorry to tell you, had been sitting 
on a chestnut-bur, and was stuck as full as a pincushion of its 
prickles. Dear me, how uncomfortably he must have felt! 


58 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


Tanglewood Play-Room 
Introductory to “ The Paradise of Children” 


HE golden days of October passed away, as so many 
other Octobers have, and brown November likewise, 
and the greater part of chill December, too. At last 

came merry Christmas, and Eustace Bright along with it, mak- 
ing it all the merrier by his presence. And, the day after his 
arrival from college, there came a mighty snow-storm. Up to 
this time, the winter had held back, and had given us a good 
many mild days, which were like smiles upon its wrinkled visage. 
The grass had kept itself green, in sheltered places, such as the 
nooks of southern hill-slopes, and along the lee of the stone 
fences. It was but a week or two ago, and since the beginning 
of the month, that the children had found a dandelion in bloom, 
on the margin of Shadow Brook, where it glides out of the 
dell. 

But no more green grass and dandelions now. This was such 
a snow-storm! ‘Twenty miles of it might have been visible at 
once, between the windows of Tanglewood and the dome of 
Taconic, had it been possible to see so far among the eddying 
drifts that whitened all the atmosphere. It seemed as if the hills 
were giants, and were flinging monstrous handfuls of snow at 
one another, in their enormous sport. So thick were the flutter- 
ing snow-flakes, that even the trees, midway down the valley, 
were hidden by them the greater part of the time. Sometimes, it 

59 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


is true, the little prisoners of Tanglewood could discern a dim 
outline of Monument Mountain, and the smooth whiteness of the 
frozen lake at its base, and the black or gray tracts of woodland 
in the nearer landscape. But these were merely peeps through 
the tempest. 

Nevertheless, the children rejoiced greatly in the snow-storm. 
They had already made acquaintance with it, by tumbling heels 
over head into its highest drifts, and flinging snow at one an- 
other, as we have just fancied the Berkshire mountains to be 
doing. And now they had come back to their spacious play- 
room, which was as big as the great drawing-room, and was 
lumbered with all sorts of playthings, large and small. The 
biggest was a rocking-horse, that looked like a real pony; and 
there was a whole family of wooden, waxen, plaster, and china 
dolls, besides rag-babies; and blocks enough to build Bunker 
Hill Monument, and nine-pins, and balls, and humming tops, and 
battledores, and grace-sticks, and skipping-ropes, and more of 
such valuable property than I could tell of in a printed page. 
But the children liked the snow-storm better than them all. It 
suggested so many brisk enjoyments for to-morrow, and all the 
remainder of the winter. The sleigh-ride; the slides down hill 
into the valley; the snow-images that were to be shaped out; 
the snow-fortresses that were to be built; and the snowballing 
to be carried on! 

So the little folks blessed the snow-storm, and were glad to 
see it come thicker and thicker, and watched hopefully the long 
drift that was piling itself up in the avenue, and was already 
higher than any of their heads. 

‘“ Why, we shall be blocked up till spring!” cried they, with 
the hugest delight. “ What a pity that the house is too high to 
be quite covered up! The little red house, down yonder, will be 
buried up to its eaves.” 

“You silly children, what do you want of more snow?” asked 

60 


TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM 


Eustace, who, tired of some novel that he was skimming through, 
had strolled into the play-room. “It has done mischief enough 
already, by spoiling the only skating that I could hope for 
through the winter. We shall see nothing more of the lake till 
April; and this was to have been my first day upon it! Don’t 
you pity me, Primrose?” 

“Oh, to be sure!” answered Primrose, laughing. “ But, for 
your comfort, we will listen to another of your old stories, such 
as you told us under the porch, and down in the hollow, by 
Shadow Brook. Perhaps I shall like them better now, when 
there is nothing to do, than while there were nuts to be gath- 
ered, and beautiful weather to enjoy.” 

Hereupon, Periwinkle, Clover, Sweet Fern, and as many 
others of the little fraternity and cousinhood as were still at 
Tanglewood, gathered about Eustace, and earnestly besought 
him for a story. The student yawned, stretched himself, and 
then, to the vast admiration of the small people, skipped three 
times back and forth over the top of a chair, in order, as he 
explained to them, to set his wits in motion. 

“Well, well, children,” said he, after these preliminaries, 
“since you insist, and Primrose has set her heart upon it, I will 
see what can be done for you. And, that you may know what 
happy days there were before snow-storms came into fashion, I 
will tell you a story of the oldest of all old times, when the world 
was as new as Sweet Fern’s bran-new humming-top. There 
was then but one season in the year, and that was the de- 
lightful summer; and but one age for mortals, and that was 
childhood.” 

“TI never heard of that before,” said Primrose. 

“Of course, you never did,” answered Eustace. “It shall 
be a story of what nobody but myself ever dreamed of, —a 
Paradise of children, — and how, by the naughtiness of just such 
a little imp as Primrose here, it all came to nothing.” 

61 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


So Eustace Bright sat down in the chair which he had just 
been skipping over, took Cowslip upon his knee, ordered silence 
throughout the auditory, and began a story about a sad naughty 
child, whose name was Pandora, and about her playfellow Epi- 
metheus. You may read it, word for word, in the pages that 
come next. 


62 


The Paradise of Children 


ONG, long ago, when this old world was in its tender 
infancy, there was a child, named Epimetheus, who never 
had either father or mother; and, that he might not be 

lonely, another child, fatherless and motherless like himself, was 

sent from a far country, to live with him, and be his playfellow 
and helpmate. Her name was Pandora. 

The first thing that Pandora saw, when she entered the cot- 
tage where Epimetheus dwelt, was a great box. And almost 
the first question which she put to him, after crossing the thresh- 
old, was this, — 

“ Epimetheus, what have you in that box?” 

“My dear little Pandora,” answered Epimetheus, “that is 
a secret, and you must be kind enough not to ask any questions 
about it. The box was left here to be kept safely, and I do not 
myself know what it contains.” 

“But who gave it to you?” asked Pandora. “And where 
did it come from?” 

“That is a secret, too,” replied Epimetheus. 

“ How provoking! ” exclaimed Pandora, pouting her lip. “I 
wish the great ugly box were out of the way!” 

“Oh come, don’t think of it any more,” cried Epimetheus. 
“Let us run out of doors, and have some nice play with the 
other children.” 

It is thousands of years since Epimetheus and Pandora were 
alive; and the world, nowadays, is a very different sort of thing 
from what it was in their time. Then, everybody was a child. 
There needed no fathers and mothers to take care of the chil- 

63 


> 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


dren; because there was no danger, nor trouble of any kind, and 
no clothes to be mended, and there was always plenty to eat and 
drink. Whenever a child wanted his dinner, he found it growing 
on a tree; and, if he looked at the tree in the morning, he could 
see the expanding blossom of that night’s supper; or, at even- 
tide, he saw the tender bud of to-morrow’s breakfast. It was 
a very pleasant life indeed. No labor to be done, no tasks to be 
studied; nothing but sports and dances, and sweet voices of 
children talking, or carolling like birds, or gushing out in merry 
laughter, throughout the livelong day. 

What was most wonderful of all, the children never quarrelled 
among themselves; neither had they any crying fits; nor, since 
time first began, had a single one of these little mortals ever gone 
apart into a corner, and sulked. Oh, what a good time was that 
to be alive in? The truth is, those ugly little winged monsters, 
called Troubles, which are now almost as numerous as mosqui- 
toes, had never yet been seen on the earth. It is probable that 
the very greatest disquietude which a child had ever experienced 
was Pandora’s vexation at not being able to discover the secret 
of the mysterious box. 

This was at first only the faint shadow of a Trouble; but, 
every day, it grew more and more substantial, until, before a 
great while, the cottage of Epimetheus and Pandora was less 
sunshiny than those of the other children. 

“Whence can the box have come?” Pandora continually kept 
saying to herself and to Epimetheus. “ And what in the world 
can be inside of it?” 

“ Always talking about this box!” said Epimetheus, at last; 
for he had grown extremely tired of the subject. “I wish, dear 
Pandora, you would try to talk of something else. Come, let 
us go and gather some ripe figs, and eat them under the trees, 
for our supper. And I know a vine that has the sweetest and 
jJuiciest grapes you ever tasted.” 

64 














THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


“ Always talking about grapes and figs!” cried Pandora, 
pettishly. 

“ Well, then,” said Epimetheus, who was a very good-tempered 
child, like a multitude of children in those days, “ let us run out 
and have a merry time with our playmates.” 

“T am tired of merry times, and don’t care if I never have 
any more!” answered our pettish little Pandora. “ And, besides, 
I never do have any. This ugly box! I am so taken up with 
thinking about it all the time. I insist upon your telling me 
what is inside of it.” 

“ As I have already said, fifty times over, I do not know!” 
replied Epimetheus, getting a little vexed. “ How, then, can I 
tell you what is inside?” 

“You might open it,” said Pandora, looking sideways at 
Epimetheus, “ and then we could see for ourselves.” 

“ Pandora, what are you thinking of?” exclaimed Epimetheus. 

And his face expressed so much horror at the idea of looking 
into a box, which had been confided to him on the condition of 
his never opening it, that Pandora thought it best not to suggest 
it any more. Still, however, she could not help thinking and talk- 
ing about the box. 

“ At least,” said she, “ you can tell me how it came here.” 

“Tt was left at the door,” replied Epimetheus, “ just before 
you came, by a person who looked very smiling and intelligent, 
and who could hardly forbear laughing as he put it down. He 
was dressed in an odd kind of a cloak, and had on a cap that 
seemed to be made partly of feathers, so that it looked almost 
as if it had wings.” 

“What sort of a staff had he?” asked Pandora. 

“Oh, the most curious staff you ever saw!” cried Epimetheus. 
“ Tt was like two serpents twisting around a stick, and was carved 
so naturally that I, at first, thought the serpents were alive.” 

“T know him,” said Pandora, thoughtfully. “Nobody else 

5 65 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


has such a staff. It was Quicksilver; and he brought me hither, 
as well as the box. No doubt he intended it for me; and, most 
probably, it contains pretty dresses for me to wear, or toys for 
you and me to play with, or something very nice for us both to 
eatl” 

“Perhaps so,” answered Epimetheus, turning away. “ But 
until Quicksilver comes back and tells us so, we have neither of 
us any right to lift the lid of the box.” 

“What a dull boy he is!” muttered Pandora, as Epimetheus 
left the cottage. “I do wish he had a little more enterprise!” 

For the first time since her arrival, Epimetheus had gone out 
without asking Pandora to accompany him. He went to gather 
figs and grapes by himself, or to seek whatever amusement he 
could find, in other society than his little playfellow’s. He was 
tired to death of hearing about the box, and heartily wished that 
Quicksilver, or whatever was the messenger’s name, had left it 
at some other child’s door, where Pandora would never have set 
eyes on it. So perseveringly as she did babble about this one 
thing! The box, the box, and nothing but the box! It seemed 
as if the box were bewitched, and as if the cottage were not big 
enough to hold it, without Pandora’s continually stumbling over 
it, and making Epimetheus stumble over it likewise, and bruising 
all four of their shins. 

Well, it was really hard that poor Epimetheus should have 
a box in his ears from morning till night; especially as the little 
people of the earth were so unaccustomed to vexations, in those 
happy days, that they knew not how to deal with them. ‘Thus, 
a small vexation made as much disturbance then, as a far bigger 
one would in our own times. 

After Epimetheus was gone, Pandora stood gazing at the 
box. She had called it ugly, above a hundred times; but, in 
spite of all that she had said against it, it was positively a very 
handsome article of furniture, and would have been quite an 

66 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


ornament to any room in which it should be placed. It was 
made of a beautiful kind of wood, with dark and rich veins 
spreading over its surface, which was so highly polished that 
little Pandora could see her face in it. As the child had no other 
looking-glass, it is odd that she did not value the box, merely 
on this account. 

The edges and corners of the box were carved with most 
wonderful skill. Around the margin there were figures of grace- 
ful men and women, and the prettiest children ever seen, reclin- 
ing or sporting amid a profusion of flowers and foliage; and 
these various objects were so exquisitely represented, and were 
wrought together in such harmony, that flowers, foliage, and 
human beings seemed to combine into a wreath of mingled beauty. 
But here and there, peeping forth from behind the carved foliage, 
Pandora once or twice fancied that she saw a face not so lovely, 
or something or other that was disagreeable, and which stole 
the beauty out of all the rest. Nevertheless, on looking more 
closely, and touching the spot with her finger, she could dis- 
cover nothing of the kind. Some face, that was really beauti- 
ful, had been made to look ugly by her catching a sideway 
glimpse at it. 

The most beautiful face of all was done in what is called high 
relief, in the centre of the lid. There was nothing else, save the 
dark, smooth richness of the polished wood, and this one face in 
the centre, with a garland of flowers about its brow. Pandora 
had looked at this face a great many times, and imagined that 
the mouth could smile if it liked, or be grave when it chose, the 
same as any living mouth. The features, indeed, all wore a very 
lively and rather mischievous expression, which looked almost as 
if it needs must burst out of the carved lips, and utter itself in 
words. 

Had the mouth spoken, it would probably have been some- 
thing like this: 

67 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


“Do not be afraid, Pandora! What harm can there be in 
opening the box? Never mind that poor, simple Epimetheus! 
You are wiser than he, and have ten times as much spirit. Open 
the box, and see if you do not find something very pretty!” 

The box, I had almost forgotten to say, was fastened; not 
by a lock, nor by any other such contrivance, but by a very in- 
tricate knot of gold cord. There appeared to be no end to this 
knot, and no beginning. Never was a knot so cunningly twisted, 
nor with so many ins and outs, which roguishly defied the skil- 
fullest fingers to disentangle them. And yet, by the very diffi- 
culty that there was in it, Pandora was the more tempted to ex- 
amine the knot, and just see how it was made. ‘Two or three 
times, already, she had stooped over the box, and taken the knot 
between her thumb and forefinger, but without positively trying 
to undo it. 

“T really believe,” said she to herself, “that I begin to see 
how it was done. Nay, perhaps I could tie it up again, after 
undoing it. There would be no harm in that, surely. Even 
Epimetheus would not blame me for that. I need not open the 
box, and should not, of course, without the foolish boy’s consent, 
even if the knot were untied.” 

It might have been better for Pandora if she had had a little 
work to do, or anything to employ her mind upon, so as not to 
be so constantly thinking of this one subject. But children led 
so easy a life, before any Troubles came into the world, that they 
had really a great deal too much leisure. They could not be 
forever playing at hide-and-seek among the flower-shrubs, or 
at blind-man’s-buff with garlands over their eyes, or at whatever 
other games had been found out, while Mother Earth was in 
her babyhood. When life is all sport, toil is the real play. There 
was absolutely nothing to do. A little sweeping and dusting 
about the cottage, I suppose, and the gathering of fresh flowers 
(which were only too abundant everywhere), and arranging them 

68 


> 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


in vases, — and poor little Pandora’s day’s work was over. And 
then, for the rest of the day, there was the box! 

After all, I am not quite sure that the box was not a blessing 
to her in its way. It supplied her with such a variety of ideas 
to think of, and to talk about, whenever she had anybody to 
listen! When she was in good-humor, she could admire the 
bright polish of its sides, and the rich border of beautiful faces 
and foliage that ran all around it. Or, if she chanced to be ill- 
tempered, she could give it a push, or kick it with her naughty 
little foot. And many a kick did the box — (but it was a mis- 
chievous box, as we shall see, and deserved all it got) — many 
a kick did it receive. But, certain it is, if it had not been for the 
box, our active-minded little Pandora would not have known half 
so well how to spend her time as she now did. 

For it was really an endless employment to guess what was 
inside. What could it be, indeed? Just imagine, my little 
hearers, how busy your wits would be, if there were a great box 
in the house, which, as you might have reason to suppose, con- 
tained something new and pretty for your Christmas or New- 
Year’s gifts. Do you think that you should be less curious than 
Pandora? If you were left alone with the box, might you not 
feel a little tempted to lift the lid? But you would not do it. 
Oh, fie! No, no! Only, if you thought there were toys in it, 
it would be so very hard to let slip an opportunity of taking just 
one peep! I know not whether Pandora expected any toys; for 
none had yet begun to be made, probably, in those days, when the 
world itself was one great plaything for the children that dwelt 
upon it. But Pandora was convinced that there was something 
very beautiful and valuable in the box; and therefore she felt 
just as anxious to take a peep as any of these little girls, here 
around me, would have felt. And, possibly, a little more so; but 
of that I am not quite so certain. 

On this particular day, however, which we have so long been 

69 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


talking about, her curiosity grew so much greater than it usually 
was, that, at last, she approached the box. She was more than 
half determined to open it, if she could. Ah, naughty Pandora! 

First, however, she tried to lift it. It was heavy; quite too 
heavy for the slender strength of a child, like Pandora. She 
raised one end of the box a few inches from the floor, and let it 
fall again, with a pretty loud thump. A moment afterwards, she 
almost fancied that she heard something stir inside of the box. 
She applied her ear as closely as possible, and listened. Posi- 
tively, there did seem to be a kind of stifled murmur, within! Or 
was it merely the singing in Pandora’s ears? Or could it be the 
beating of her heart? The child could not quite satisfy herself 
whether she had heard anything or no. But, at all events, her 
curiosity was stronger than ever. 

As she drew back her head, her eyes fell upon the knot of 
gold cord. 

“It must have been a very ingenious person who tied this 
knot,” said Pandora to herself. ‘‘ But I think I could untie it 
nevertheless. I am resolved, at least, to find the two ends of the 
cord.” 

So she took the golden knot in her fingers, and pried into its 
intricacies as sharply as she could. Almost without intending 
it, or quite knowing what she was about, she was soon busily 
engaged in attempting to undo it. Meanwhile, the bright sun- 
shine came through the open window; as did likewise the merry 
voices of the children, playing at a distance, and perhaps the 
voice of Epimetheus among them. Pandora stopped to listen. 
What a beautiful day it was! Would it not be wiser, if she 
were to let the troublesome knot alone, and think no more 
about the box, but run and join her little playfellows, and be 
happy? 

All this time, however, her fingers were half unconsciously 
busy with the knot; and happening to glance at the flower- 

70 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


wreathed face on the lid of the enchanted box, she seemed to 
perceive it slyly grinning at her. 

“That face looks very mischievous,” thought Pandora. “I 
wonder whether it smiles because I am doing wrong! I have 
the greatest mind in the world to run away!” 

But just then, by the merest accident, she gave the knot a 
kind of a twist, which produced a wonderful result. The gold 
cord untwined itself, as if by magic, and left the box without 
a fastening. 

“This is the strangest thing I ever knew!” said Pandora. 
“What will Epimetheus say? And how can I possibly tie it 
up again?” 

__ She made one or two attempts to restore the knot, but soon 
found it quite beyond her skill. It had disentangled itself so 
suddenly that she could not in the least remember how the strings 
had been doubled into one another; and when she tried to recol- 
lect the shape and appearance of the knot, it seemed to have gone 
entirely out of her mind. Nothing was to be done, therefore, but 
to let the box remain as it was until Epimetheus should come in. 

* But,” said Pandora, ‘‘ when he finds the knot untied, he will 
know that I have done it. How shall I make him believe that 
I have not looked into the box?” 

And then the thought came into her naughty little heart, 
that, since she would be suspected of having looked into the box, 
she might just as well do so at once. Oh, very naughty and 
very foolish Pandora! You should have thought only of doing 
what was right, and of leaving undone what was wrong, and 
not of what your playfellow Epimetheus would have said or 
believed. And so perhaps she might, if the enchanted face on 
the lid of the box had not looked so bewitchingly persuasive at 
her, and if she had not seemed to hear, more distinctly than 
before, the murmur of small voices within. She could not tell 
whether it was fancy or no; but there was quite a little tumult 

71 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


of whispers in her ear,—or else it was her curiosity that 
whispered, — 

“Let us out, dear Pandora, — pray let us out! We will 
be such nice pretty playfellows for you! Only let us out!” 

“What can it be?” thought Pandora. “Is there something 
alive in the box? Well!— yes! —TI am resolved to take just 
one peep! Only one peep; and then the lid shall be shut down 
as safely as ever! There cannot possibly be any harm in just 
one little peep!” 

But it is now time for us to see what Epimetheus was doing. 

This was the first time, since his little playmate had come to 
dwell with him, that he had attempted to enjoy any pleasure 
in which she did not partake. But nothing went right; nor 
was he nearly so happy as on other days. He could not find 
a sweet grape or a ripe fig (if Epimetheus had a fault, it was 
a little too much fondness for figs); or, if ripe at all, they were 
over-ripe, and so sweet as to be cloying. There was no mirth 
in his heart, such as usually made his voice gush out, of its own 
accord, and swell the merriment of his companions. In short, 
he grew so uneasy and discontented, that the other children could 
not imagine what was the matter with Epimetheus. Neither did 
he himself know what ailed him, any better than they did. For 
you must recollect that, at the time we are speaking of, it was 
everybody’s nature, and constant habit, to be happy. The world 
had not yet learned to be otherwise. Not a single soul or body, 
since these children were first sent to enjoy themselves on the 
beautiful earth, had ever been sick or out of sorts. 

At length, discovering that, somehow or other, he put a stop 
to all the play, Epimetheus judged it best to go back to Pandora, 
who was in a humor better suited to his own. But, with a hope 
of giving her pleasure, he gathered some flowers, and made them 
into a wreath, which he meant to put upon her head. The flowers 
were very lovely, — roses, and lilies, and orange-blossoms, and 

72 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


a great many more, which left a trail of fragrance behind, as 
Epimetheus carried them along; and the wreath was put together 
with as much skill as could reasonably be expected of a boy. 
The fingers of little girls, it has always appeared to me, are the 
fittest to twine flower-wreaths; but boys could do it, in those 
days, rather better than they can now. 

And here I must mention that a great black cloud had been 
gathering in the sky, for some time past, although it had not 
yet overspread the sun. But, just as Epimetheus reached the 
cottage door, this cloud began to intercept the sunshine, and thus 
to make a sudden and sad obscurity. 

He entered softly; for he meant, if possible, to steal behind 
Pandora, and fling the wreath of flowers over her head, before 
she should be aware of his approach. But, as it happened, there 
was no need of his treading so very lightly. He might have 
trod as heavily as he pleased, — as heavily as a grown man, — 
as heavily, I was going to say, as an elephant, — without much 
probability of Pandora’s hearing his footsteps. She was too 
intent upon her purpose. At the moment of his entering the 
cottage, the naughty child had put her hand to the lid, and was 
on the point of opening the mysterious box. Epimetheus beheld 
her. If he had cried out, Pandora would probably have with- 
drawn her hand, and the fatal mystery of the box might never 
have been known. 

But Epimetheus himself, although he said very little about it, 
had his own share of curiosity to know what was inside. Per- 
ceiving that Pandora was resolved to find out the secret, he de- 
termined that his playfellow should not be the only wise person 
in the cottage. And if there were anything pretty or valuable 
in the box, he meant to take half of it to himself. Thus, after 
all his sage speeches to Pandora about restraining her curiosity, 
Epimetheus turned out to be quite as foolish, and nearly as much 
in fault, as she. So, whenever we blame Pandora for what hap- 

73 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


pened, we must not forget to shake our heads at Epimetheus 
likewise. 

As Pandora raised the lid, the cottage grew very dark and 
dismal; for the black cloud had now swept quite over the sun, 
and seemed to have buried it alive. There had, for a little while 
past, been a low growling and muttering, which all at once broke 
into a heavy peal of thunder. But Pandora, heeding nothing 
of all this, lifted the lid nearly upright, and looked inside. It 
seemed as if a sudden swarm of winged creatures brushed past 
her, taking flight out of the box, while, at the same instant, she 
heard the voice of Epimetheus, with a lamentable tone, as if he 
were in pain. 

“Oh, I am stung!” cried he. “I am stung! Naughty Pan- 
dora! why have you opened this wicked box?” 

Pandora let fall the lid, and, starting up, looked about her, 
to see what had befallen Epimetheus. The thunder-cloud had 
so darkened the room that she could not very clearly discern 
what was in it. But she heard a disagreeable buzzing, as if a 
great many huge flies, or gigantic mosquitoes, or those insects 
which we call dor-bugs, and pinching-dogs, were darting about. 
And, as her eyes grew more accustomed to the imperfect light, 
she saw a crowd of ugly little shapes, with bats’ wings, looking 
abominably spiteful, and armed with terribly long stings in their 
tails. It was one of these that had stung Epimetheus. Nor 
was it a great while before Pandora herself began to scream, in 
no less pain and affright than her playfellow, and making a 
vast deal more hubbub about it. An odious little monster had 
settled on her forehead, and would have stung her I know not 
how deeply, if Epimetheus had not run and brushed it away. 

Now, if you wish to know what these ugly things might be, 
which had made their escape out of the box, I must tell you that 
they were the whole family of earthly Troubles. There were 
evil Passions; there were a great many species of Cares; there 

74 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


were more than a hundred and fifty Sorrows; there were Dis- 
eases, in a vast number of miserable and painful shapes; there 
were more kinds of Naughtiness than it would be of any use to 
talk about. In short, everything that has since afflicted the souls 
and bodies of mankind had been shut up in the mysterious box, 
and given to Epimetheus and Pandora to be kept safely, in order 
that the happy children of the world might never be molested 
by them. Had they been faithful to their trust, all would have 
gone well. No grown person would ever have been sad, nor any 
child have had cause to shed a single tear, from that hour until 
this moment. 

But — and you may see by this how a wrong act of any one 
mortal is a calamity to the whole world — by Pandora’s lifting 
the lid of that miserable box, and by the fault of Epimetheus, 
too, in not preventing her, these Troubles have obtained a foot- 
hold among us, and do not seem very likely to be driven away 
ina hurry. For it was impossible, as you will easily guess, that 
the two children should keep the ugly swarm in their own little 
cottage. On the contrary, the first thing that they did was to 
fling open the doors and windows, in hopes of getting rid of 
them; and, sure enough, away flew the winged Troubles all 
abroad, and so pestered and tormented the small people, every- 
where about, that none of them so much as smiled for many days 
afterwards. And, what was very singular, all the flowers and 
dewy blossoms on earth, not one of which had hitherto faded, 
now began to droop and shed their leaves, after a day or two. 
The children, moreover, who before seemed immortal in their 
childhood, now grew older, day by day, and came soon to be 
youths and maidens, and men and women by and by, and aged 
people, before they dreamed of such a thing. 

Meanwhile, the naughty Pandora, and hardly less naughty 
Epimetheus, remained in their cottage. Both of them had been 
grievously stung, and were in a good deal of pain, which seemed 


75 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


the more intolerable to them, because it was the very first pain 
that had ever been felt since the world began. Of course, they 
were entirely unaccustomed to it, and could have no idea what 
it meant. Besides all this, they were in exceedingly bad humor, 
both with themselves and with one another. In order to indulge 
it to the utmost, Epimetheus sat down sullenly in a corner with 
his back towards Pandora; while Pandora flung herself upon 
the floor and rested her head on the fatal and abominable box. 
She was crying bitterly, and sobbing as if her heart would 
break. 

Suddenly there was a gentle little tap on the inside of the 
lid. 

“What can that be?” cried Pandora, lifting her head. 

But either Epimetheus had not heard the tap, or was too 
much out of humor to notice it. At any rate, he made no 
answer. 

“You are very unkind,” said Pandora, sobbing anew, 
to speak to me!” 

Again the tap! It sounded like the tiny knuckles of a fairy’s 
hand, knocking lightly and playfully on the inside of the box. 

“Who are you?” asked Pandora, with a little of her former 
curiosity. “ Who are you, inside of this naughty box?” 

A sweet little voice spoke from within, — 

“ Only lift the lid, and you shall see.” 

“No, no,” answered Pandora, again beginning to sob, “I 
have had enough of lifting the lid! You are inside of the box, 
naughty creature, and there you shall stay! There are plenty 
of your ugly brothers and sisters already flying about the world. 
You need never think that I shall be so foolish as to let you 
out!” 

She looked towards Epimetheus, as she spoke, perhaps ex- 
pecting that he would commend her for her wisdom. But the 
sullen boy only muttered that she was wise a little too late. 

76 


ee 


not 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


“ Ah,” said the sweet little voice again, “ you had much better 
let me out. I am not like those naughty creatures that have 
stings in their tails. They are no brothers and sisters of mine, 
as you would see at once, if you were only to get a glimpse of 
me. Come, come, my pretty Pandora! I am sure you will let 
me out!” 7 

And, indeed, there was a kind of cheerful witchery in the 
tone, that made it almost impossible to refuse anything which 
this little voice asked. Pandora’s heart had insensibly grown 
lighter, at every word that came from within the box. Epime- 
theus, too, though still in the corner, had turned half round, and 
seemed to be in rather better spirits than before. 

“ My dear Epimetheus,” cried Pandora, “ have you heard this 
little voice?” 

“Yes, to be sure I have,” answered he, but in no very good- 
humor as yet. “ And what of it?” 

“ Shall I lift the lid again?” asked Pandora. 

“ Just as you please,” said Epimetheus. ‘“ You have done so 
much mischief already, that perhaps you may as well do a little 
more. Qne other Trouble, in such a swarm as you have set adrift 
about the world, can make no very great difference.” 

“You might speak a little more kindly!” murmured Pan- 
dora, wiping her eyes. 

“Ah, naughty boy!” cried the little voice within the box, in 
an arch and laughing tone. “He knows he is longing to see 
me. Come, my dear Pandora, lift up the lid. I am in a great 
hurry to comfort you. Only let me have some fresh air, and you 
shall soon see that matters are not quite so dismal as you think 
them! ” 

“ Epimetheus,” exclaimed Pandora, “come what may, I am 
resolved to open the box!” 

“ And, as the lid seems very heavy,” cried Epimetheus, run- 
ning across the room, “I will help you!” 


77 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


So, with one consent, the two children again lifted the lid. 
Out flew a sunny and smiling little personage, and hovered about 
the room, throwing a light wherever she went. Have you never 
made the sunshine dance into dark corners, by reflecting it from 
a bit of looking-glass? Well, so looked the winged cheerfulness 
of this fairy-like stranger, amid the gloom of the cottage. She 
flew to Epimetheus, and laid the least touch of her finger on the 
inflamed spot where the Trouble had stung him, and immedi- 
ately the anguish of it was gone. Then she kissed Pandora on 
the forehead, and her hurt was cured likewise. 

After performing these good offices, the bright stranger 
fluttered sportively over the children’s heads, and looked so 
sweetly at them, that they both began to think it not so very 
much amiss to have opened the box, since, otherwise, their cheery 
guest must have been kept a prisoner among those naughty imps 
with stings in their tails. 

‘Pray, who are you, beautiful creature?” inquired Pandora. 

“T am to be called Hope!” answered the sunshiny figure. 
‘““ And because I am such a cheery little body, I was packed into 
the box, to make amends to the human race for that swarm of 
ugly Troubles, which was destined to be let loose among them. 
Never fear! we shall do pretty well in spite of them all.” 

“Your wings are colored like the rainbow!” exclaimed Pan- 
dora. ‘“ How very beautiful!” 

“Yes, they are like the rainbow,” said Hope, “ because, glad 
as my nature is, I am partly made of tears as well as smiles.” 

“And will you stay with us,” asked Epimetheus, “ forever 


and ever?” 
“As long as you need me,” said Hope, with her pleasant 
smile, — “and that will be as long as you live in the world, — 


I promise never to desert you. There may come times and sea- 

sons, now and then, when you will think that I have utterly 

vanished. But again, and again, and again, when perhaps you 
78 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


least dream of it, you shall see the glimmer of my wings on the 
ceiling of your cottage. Yes, my dear children, and I know 
something very good and beautiful that is to be given you 
hereafter! ” 

“Oh tell us,” they exclaimed, — “tell us what it is!” 

“Do not ask me,” replied Hope, putting her finger on her 
rosy mouth. “ But do not despair, even if it should never happen 
while you live on this earth. Trust in my promise, for it is 
true.” 

“We do trust you!” cried Epimetheus and Pandora, both 
in one breath. 

And so they did; and not only they, but so has everybody 
trusted Hope, that has since been alive. And to tell you the 
truth, I cannot help being glad — (though, to be sure, it was 
an uncommonly naughty thing for her to do) — but I cannot 
help being glad that our foolish Pandora peeped into the box. 
No doubt — no doubt —the Troubles are still flying about the 
world, and have increased in multitude, rather than lessened, and 
are a very ugly set of imps, and carry most venomous stings in 
their tails. I have felt them already, and expect to feel them 
more, as I grow older. But then that lovely and lightsome little 
figure of Hope! What in the world could we do without her? 
Hope spiritualizes the earth; Hope makes it always new; and, 
even in the earth’s best and brightest aspect, Hope shows it to 
be only the shadow of an infinite bliss hereafter! 


79 


Tanglewood Play-Room 
After the Story 


- RIMROSE,” asked Eustace, pinching her ear, “ how do 

Pp you like my little Pandora? Don’t you think her the 

exact picture of yourself? But you would not have 
hesitated half so long about opening the box.” 

“Then I should have been well punished for my naughti- 
ness,” retorted Primrose, smartly; “for the first thing to pop 
out, after the lid was lifted, would have been Mr. Eustace Bright, 
in the shape of a Trouble.” 

“Cousin Eustace,” said Sweet Fern, “did the box hold all 
the trouble that has ever come into the world?” 

“Every mite of it!” answered Eustace. “This very snow- 
storm, which has spoiled my skating, was packed up there.” 

*““ And how big was the box?” asked Sweet Fern. 

“Why, perhaps three feet long,” said Eustace, “two feet 
wide, and two feet and a half high.” 

“ Ah,” said the child, “you are making fun of me, Cousin 
Eustace! I know there is not trouble enough in the world to fill 
such a great box as that. As for the snow-storm, it is no trouble 
at all, but a pleasure; so it could not have been in the box.” 

“ Hear the child!” cried Primrose, with an air of superiority. 
“ How little he knows about the troubles of this world! Poor 
fellow! He will be wiser when he has seen as much of life as 
I have.” 

So saying, she began to skip the rope. 

Meantime, the day was drawing towards its close. Out of 
doors the scene certainly looked dreary. There was a gray drift, 

80 


TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM 


far and wide, through the gathering twilight; the earth was as 
pathless as the air; and the bank of snow over the steps of the 
porch proved that nobody had entered or gone out for a good 
many hours past. Had there been only one child at the window 
of Tanglewood, gazing at this wintry prospect, it would perhaps 
have made him sad. But half a dozen children together, though 
they cannot quite turn the world into a paradise, may defy old 
Winter and all his storms to put them out of spirits. Eustace 
Bright, moreover, on the spur of the moment, invented several 
new kinds of play, which kept them all in a roar of merriment 
till bedtime, and served for the next stormy day besides. 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


Tanglewood Fireside 
Introductory to “The Three Golden Apples” 


HE snow-storm lasted another day; but what became 
of it afterwards, I cannot possibly imagine. At any 
rate, it entirely cleared away during the night; and 

when the sun arose the next morning, it shone brightly down 
on as bleak a tract of hill-country, here in Berkshire, as could 
be seen anywhere in the world. The frost-work had so covered 
the window-panes that it was hardly possible to get a glimpse 
at the scenery outside. But, while waiting for breakfast, the 
small populace of Tanglewood had scratched peep-holes with 
their finger-nails, and saw with vast delight that — unless it were 
one or two bare patches on a precipitous hill-side, or the gray 
effect of the snow, intermingled with the black pine forest — all 
nature was as white as a sheet. How exceedingly pleasant! 
And, to make it all the better, it was cold enough to nip one’s nose 
short off! If people have but life enough in them to bear it, 
there is nothing that so raises the spirits, and makes the blood 
ripple and dance so nimbly, like a brook down the slope of a 
hill, as a bright, hard frost. 

No sooner was breakfast over, than the whole party, well 
muffled in furs and woollens, floundered forth into the midst of 
the snow. Well, what a day of frosty sport was this! They 
slid down hill into the valley, a hundred times, nobody knows 
how far; and, to make it all the merrier, upsetting their sledges, 

82 


TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE 


and tumbling head over heels, quite as often as they came safely 
to the bottom. And, once, Eustace Bright took Periwinkle, 
Sweet Fern, and Squash-Blossom, on the sledge with him, by 
way of insuring a safe passage; and down they went, full speed. 
But, behold, half-way down, the sledge hit against a hidden stump, 
and flung all four of its passengers into a heap; and, on gather- 
ing themselves up, there was no little Squash-Blossom to be 
found! Why, what could have become of the child? And 
while they were wondering and staring about, up started Squash- 
Blossom out of a snow-bank, with the reddest face you ever saw, 
and looking as if a large scarlet flower had suddenly sprouted 
up in midwinter. Then there was a great laugh. 

When they had grown tired of sliding down hill, Eustace set 
the children to digging a cave in the biggest snow-drift that they 
could find. Unluckily, just as it was completed, and the party 
had squeezed themselves into the hollow, down came the roof upon 
their heads, and buried every soul of them alive! The next 
moment, up popped all their little heads out of the ruins, and 
the tall student’s head in the midst of them, looking hoary and 
venerable with the snow-dust that had got amongst his brown 
curls. And then, to punish Cousin Eustace for advising them 
to dig such a tumble-down cavern, the children attacked him in 
a body, and so bepelted him with snowballs that he was fain to 
take to his heels. 

So he ran away, and went into the woods, and thence to the 
margin of Shadow Brook, where he could hear the streamlet 
grumbling along, under great overhanging banks of snow and 
ice, which would scarcely let it see the light of day. There were 
adamantine icicles glittering around all its little cascades. Thence 
he strolled to the shore of the lake, and beheld a white, untrod- 
den plain before him, stretching from his own feet to the foot 
of Monument Mountain. And, it being now almost sunset, 
Eustace thought that he had never beheld anything so fresh and 

83 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


beautiful as the scene. He was glad that the children were not 
with him; for their lively spirits and tumble-about activity would 
quite have chased away his higher and graver mood, so that he 
would merely have been merry (as he had already been, the 
whole day long), and would not have known the loveliness of 
the winter sunset among the hills. 

When the sun was fairly down, our friend Eustace went 
home to eat his supper. After the meal was over, he betook 
himself to the study, with a purpose, I rather imagine, to write 
an ode, or two or three sonnets, or verses of some kind or other, 
in praise of the purple and golden clouds which he had seen 
around the setting sun. But, before he had hammered out the 
very first rhyme, the door opened, and Primrose and Periwinkle 
made their appearance. 

“Go away, children! I can’t be troubled with you now!” 
cried the student, looking over his shoulder, with the pen between 
his fingers. ‘What in the world do you want here? I thought 
you were all in bed!” 

“Hear him, Periwinkle, trying to talk like a grown man!” 
said Primrose. “ And he seems to forget that I am now thirteen 
years old, and may sit up almost as late as I please. But, Cousin 
Eustace, you must put off your airs, and come with us to the 
drawing-room. ‘The children have talked so much about your 
stories, that my father wishes to hear one of them, in order to 
judge whether they are likely to do any mischief.” 

“Poh, poh, Primrose!” exclaimed the student, rather vexed. 
“TI don’t believe I can tell one of my stories in the presence of 
grown people. Besides, your father is a classical scholar; not 
that I am much afraid of his scholarship, neither, for I doubt 
not it is as rusty as an old case-knife by this time. But then 
he will be sure to quarrel with the admirable nonsense that I put 
into these stories, out of my own head, and which makes the 
great charm of the matter for children, like yourself. No man 

84 


TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE 


of fifty, who has read the classical myths in his youth, can pos- 
sibly understand my merit as a reinventor and improver of 
them.” 

“ All this may be very true,” said Primrose, “ but come you 
must! My father will not open his book, nor will mamma open 
the piano, till you have given us some of your nonsense, as you 
very correctly call it. So be a good boy, and come along.” 

Whatever he might pretend, the student was rather glad 
than otherwise, on second thoughts, to catch at the opportunity 
of proving to Mr. Pringle what an excellent faculty he had in 
modernizing the myths of ancient times. Until twenty years 
of age, a young man may, indeed, be rather bashful about show- 
ing his poetry and his prose; but, for all that, he is pretty apt 
to think that these very productions would place him at the tip- 
top of literature, if once they could be known. Accordingly, 
without much more resistance, Eustace suffered Primrose and 
Periwinkle to drag him into the drawing-room. 

It was a large, handsome apartment, with a semicircular 
window at one end, in the recess of which stood a marble copy 
of Greenough’s Angel and Child. On one side of the fireplace 
there were many shelves of books, gravely but richly bound. 
The white light of the astral-lamp, and the red glow of the bright 
coal-fire, made the room brilliant and cheerful; and before the 
fire, in a deep arm-chair, sat Mr. Pringle, looking just fit to 
be seated in such a chair, and in such a room. He was a tall 
and quite a handsome gentleman, with a bald brow; and was 
always so nicely dressed, that even Eustace Bright never liked 
to enter his presence without at least pausing at the threshold 
to settle his shirt-collar. But now, as Primrose had hold of one 
of his hands, and Periwinkle of the other, he was forced to make 
his appearance with a rough-and-tumble sort of look, as if he 
had been rolling all day in a snow-bank. And so he had. 

Mr. Pringle turned towards the student benignly enough, 

85 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


but in a way that made him feel how uncombed and unbrushed 
he was, and how uncombed and unbrushed, likewise, were his 
mind and thoughts. 

“Eustace,” said Mr. Pringle, with a smile, “I find that you 
are producing a great sensation among the little public of 
Tanglewood, by the exercise of your gifts of narrative. Prim- 
rose here, as the little folks choose to call her, and the rest of the 
children, have been so loud in praise of your stories, that Mrs. 
Pringle and myself are really curious to hear a specimen. It 
would be so much the more gratifying to myself, as the stories 
appear to be an attempt to render the fables of classical an- 
tiquity into the idiom of modern fancy and feeling. At least, 
so I judge from a few of the incidents which have come to me 
at second hand.” 

“You are not exactly the auditor that I should have chosen, 
sir,’ observed the student, “for fantasies of this nature.” 

“Possibly not,” replied Mr. Pringle. “I suspect, however, 
that a young author’s most useful critic is precisely the one whom 
he would be least apt to choose. Pray oblige me, therefore.” 

‘Sympathy, methinks, should have some little share in the 
critic’s qualifications,” murmured Eustace Bright. “ However, 
sir, if you will find patience, I will find stories. But be kind 
enough to remember that I am addressing myself to the imagi- 
nation and sympathies of the children, not to your own.” 

Accordingly, the student snatched hold of the first theme 
which presented itself. It was suggested by a plate of apples 
that he happened to spy on the mantelpiece. 


The Three Golden Apples 


ID you ever hear of the golden apples, that grew in the 
garden of the Hesperides? Ah, those were such apples 


as would bring a great price, by the bushel, if any of 
them could be found growing in the orchards of nowadays! But 
there is not, I suppose, a graft of that wonderful fruit on a 
single tree in the wide world. Not so much as a seed of those 
apples exists any longer. 

And, even in the old, old, half-forgotten times, before the 
garden of the Hesperides was overrun with weeds, a great many 
people doubted whether there could be real trees that bore apples 
of solid gold upon their branches. All had heard of them, but 
nobody remembered to have seen any. Children, nevertheless, 
used to listen, open-mouthed, to stories of the golden apple-tree, 
and resolved to discover it, when they should be big enough. 
Adventurous young men, who desired to do a braver thing than 
any of their fellows, set out in quest of this fruit. Many of 
them returned no more; none of them brought back the apples. 
No wonder that they found it impossible to gather them! It 
is said that there was a dragon beneath the tree, with a hundred 
terrible heads, fifty of which were always on the watch, while 
the other fifty slept. 

In my opinion it was hardly worth running so much risk 
for the sake of a solid golden apple. Had the apples been sweet, 
mellow, and juicy, indeed that would be another matter. There 
might then have been some sense in trying to get at them, in 
spite of the hundred-headed dragon. 

87 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


But, as I have already told you, it was quite a common thing 
with young persons, when tired of too much peace and rest, to 
go in search of the garden of the Hesperides. And once the 
adventure was undertaken by a hero who had enjoyed very little 
peace or rest since he came into the world. At the time of which 
I am going to speak, he was wandering through the pleasant land 
of Italy, with a mighty club in his hand, and a bow and quiver 
slung across his shoulders. He was wrapt in the skin of the big- 
gest and fiercest lion that ever had been seen, and which he 
himself had killed; and though, on the whole, he was kind, and 
generous, and noble, there was a good deal of the lion’s fierce- 
ness in his heart. As he went on his way, he continually inquired 
whether that were the right road to the famous garden. But 
none of the country people knew anything about the matter, and 
many looked as if they would have laughed at the question, if the 
stranger had not carried so very big a club. 

So he journeyed on and on, still making the same inquiry, 
until, at last, he came to the brink of a river where some beau- 
tiful young women sat twining wreaths of flowers. 

“Can you tell me, pretty maidens,’ asked the stranger, 
“ whether this is the right way to the garden of the Hesperides? ” 

The young women had been having a fine time together, 
weaving the flowers into wreaths, and crowning one another’s 
heads. And there seemed to be a kind of magic in the touch 
of their fingers, that made the flowers more fresh and dewy, and 
of brighter hues, and sweeter fragrance, while they played with 
them, than even when they had been growing on their native 
stems. But, on hearing the stranger’s question, they dropped 
all their flowers on the grass, and gazed at him with astonishment. 

“The garden of the Hesperides!” cried one. “ We thought 
mortals had been weary of seeking it, after so many disappoint- 
ments. And pray, adventurous traveller, what do you want 
there?” 

88 











ae 


Tal hoa orale 





THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


“A certain king, who is my cousin,” replied he, “has or- 
dered me to get him three of the golden apples.” 

“Most of the young men who go in quest of these apples,” 
observed another of the damsels, “‘ desire to obtain them for 
themselves, or to present them to some fair maiden whom they 
love. Do you, then, love this king, your cousin, so very much?” 

“Perhaps not,” replied the stranger, sighing. “ He has often 
been severe and cruel to me. But it is my destiny to obey him.” 

‘““And do you know,” asked the damsel who had first spoken, 
“that a terrible dragon, with a hundred heads, keeps watch 
under the golden apple-tree? ” 

“T know it well,’ answered the stranger, calmly. “ But, 
from my cradle upwards, it has been my business, and almost 
my pastime, to deal with serpents and dragons.” 

The young women looked at his massive club, and at the 
shaggy lion’s skin which he wore, and likewise at his heroic 
limbs and figure; and they whispered to each other that the 
stranger appeared to be one who might reasonably expect to 
perform deeds far beyond the might of other men. But, then, 
the dragon with a hundred heads! What mortal, even if he 
possessed a hundred lives, could hope to escape the fangs of 
such a monster? So kind-hearted were the maidens, that they 
could not bear to see this brave and handsome traveller attempt 
what was so very dangerous, and devote himself, most probably, 
to become a meal for the dragon’s hundred ravenous mouths. 

“Go back,” cried they all, — “ go back to your own home! 
Your mother, beholding you safe and sound, will shed tears of 
joy; and what can she do more, should you win ever so great 
a victory? No matter for the golden apples! No matter for 
the king, your cruel cousin! We do not wish the dragon with 
the hundred heads to eat you up!” 

The stranger seemed to grow impatient at these remon- 
strances. He carelessly lifted his mighty club, and let it fall 

89 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


upon a rock that lay half buried in the earth, near by. With the 
force of that idle blow, the great rock was shattered all to pieces. 
It cost the stranger no more effort to achieve this feat of a giant’s 
strength than for one of the young maidens to touch her sister’s 
rosy cheek with a flower. 

“Do you not believe,” said he, looking at the damsels with 
a smile, “ that such a blow would have crushed one of the dragon’s 
hundred heads? ” 

Then he sat down on the grass, and told them the story of 
his life, or as much of it as he could remember, from the day when 
he was first cradled in a warrior’s brazen shield. While he lay 
there, two immense serpents came gliding over the floor, and 
opened their hideous jaws to devour him; and he, a baby of a 
few months old, had griped one of the fierce snakes in each of 
his little fists, and strangled them to death. When he was but 
a stripling, he had killed a huge lion, almost as big as the one 
whose vast and shaggy hide he now wore upon his shoulders. The 
next thing that he had done was to fight a battle with an ugly 
sort of monster, called a hydra, which had no less than nine heads, 
and exceedingly sharp teeth in every one. 

“But the dragon of the Hesperides, you know,” observed 
one of the damsels, “has a hundred heads!” 

“ Nevertheless,” replied the stranger, “I would rather fight 
two such dragons than a single hydra. For, as fast as I cut 
off a head, two others grew in its place; and, besides, there was 
one of the heads that could not possibly be killed, but kept biting 
as fiercely as ever, long after it was cut off. So I was forced to 
bury it under a stone, where it is doubtless alive to this very 
day. But the hydra’s body, and its eight other heads, will never 
do any further mischief.” 

The damsels, judging that the story was likely to last a good 
while, had been preparing a repast of bread and grapes, that 
the stranger might refresh himself in the intervals of his talk. 

90 


> 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


They took pleasure in helping him to this simple food; and, 
now and then, one of them would put a sweet grape between 
her rosy lips, lest it should make him bashful to eat alone. 

The traveller proceeded to tell how he had chased a very swift 
stag, for a twelvemonth together, without ever stopping to take 
breath, and had at last caught it by the antlers, and carried it 
home alive. And he had fought with a very odd race of people, 
half horses and half men, and had put them all to death, from 
a sense of duty, in order that their ugly figures might never 
be seen any more. Besides all this, he took to himself great 
credit for having cleaned out a stable. 

“Do you call that a wonderful exploit?” asked one of the 
young maidens, with a smile. “ Any clown in the country has 
done as much!” 

“Had it been an ordinary stable,” replied the stranger, “I 
should not have mentioned it. But this was so gigantic a task 
that it would have taken me all my life to perform it, if I had 
not luckily thought of turning the channel of a river through the 
stable-door. ‘That did the business in a very short time! ” 

Seeing how earnestly his fair auditors listened, he next told 
them how he had shot some monstrous birds, and had caught a 
wild bull alive and let him go again, and had tamed a number 
of very wild horses, and had conquered Hippolyta, the warlike 
queen of the Amazons. He mentioned, likewise, that he had 
taken off Hippolyta’s enchanted girdle, and had given it to the 
daughter of his cousin, the king. 

“Was it the girdle of Venus,” inquired the prettiest of the 
damsels, ‘ which makes women beautiful? ” 

“No,” answered the stranger. “It had formerly been the 
sword-belt of Mars; and it can only make the wearer valiant 
and courageous.” 

“An old sword-belt!” cried the damsel, tossing her head. 
“Then I should not care about having it!” 

91 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


“ You are right,” said the stranger. 

Going on with his wonderful narrative, he informed the 
maidens that as strange an adventure as ever happened was 
when he fought with Geryon, the six-legged man. This was 
a very odd and frightful sort of figure, as you may well believe. 
Any person, looking at his tracks in the sand or snow, would 
suppose that three sociable companions had been walking along 
together. On hearing his footsteps at a little distance, it was 
no more than reasonable to judge that several people must be 
coming. But it was only the strange man Geryon clattering 
onward, with his six legs! 

Six legs, and one gigantic body! Certainly, he must have 
been a very queer monster to look at; and, my stars, what a 
waste of shoe-leather! 

When the stranger had finished the story of his adventures, 
he looked around at the attentive faces of the maidens. 

“Perhaps you may have heard of me before,” said he, mod- 
estly. “My name is Hercules!” 

“We had already guessed it,” replied the maidens; “ for your 
wonderful deeds are known all over the world. We do not think 
it strange, any longer, that you should set out in quest of the 
golden apples of the Hesperides. Come, sisters, let us crown 
the hero with flowers!” 

Then they flung beautiful wreaths over his stately head and 
mighty shoulders, so that the lion’s skin was almost entirely 
covered with roses. They took possession of his ponderous club, 
and so entwined it about with the brightest, softest, and most 
fragrant blossoms, that not a finger’s breadth of its oaken sub- 
stance could be seen. It looked all like a huge bunch of flowers. 
Lastly, they joined hands, and danced around him, chanting 
words which became poetry of their own accord, and grew into 
a choral song, in honor of the illustrious Hercules. 

And Hercules was rejoiced, as any other hero would have 

92 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


been, to know that these fair young girls had heard of the valiant 
deeds which it had cost him so much toil and danger to achieve. 
But, still, he was not satisfied. He could not think that what 
he had already done was worthy of so much honor, while there 
remained any bold or difficult adventure to be undertaken. 

“ Dear maidens,” said he, when they paused to take breath, 
“now that you know my name, will you not tell me how I am 
to reach the garden of the Hesperides? ” 

“Ah! must you go so soon?” they exclaimed. “ You — that 
have performed so many wonders, and spent such a toilsome life 
—cannot you content yourself to repose a little while on the 
margin of this peaceful river?” 

Hercules shook his head. 

“TI must depart now,” said he. 

“We will then give you the best directions we can,” replied 
the damsels. “ You must go to the sea-shore, and find out the 
Old One, and compel him to inform you where the golden apples: 
are to be found.” 

“The Old One!” repeated Hercules, laughing at this odd 
name. “ And, pray, who may the Old One be?” 

“Why, the Old Man of the Sea, to be sure!”’ answered one 
of the damsels. ‘“ He has fifty daughters, whom some people 
call very beautiful; but we do not think it proper to be ac- 
quainted with them, because they have sea-green hair, and taper 
away like fishes. You must talk with this Old Man of the Sea. 
He is a sea-faring person, and knows all about the garden of 
the Hesperides; for it is situated in an island which he is often 
in the habit of visiting.” 

Hercules then asked whereabouts the Old One was most likely 
to be met with. When the damsels had informed him, he thanked 
them for all their kindness, — for the bread and grapes with 
which they had fed him, the lovely flowers with which they had 
crowned him, and the songs and dances wherewith they had done 

93 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


him honor, — and he thanked them, most of all, for telling him 
the right way, — and immediately set forth upon his journey. 

But, before he was out of hearing, one of the maidens called 
after him. 

“Keep fast hold of the Old One, when you catch him! ” cried 
she, smiling, and lifting her finger to make the caution more 
impressive. “Do not be astonished at anything that may hap- 
pen. Only hold him fast, and he will tell you what you wish to 
know.” 

- Hercules again thanked her, and pursued his way, while the 
maiden resumed their pleasant labor of making flower-wreaths. 
They talked about the hero, long after he was gone. 

“We will crown him with the loveliest of our garlands,” said 
they, “ when he returns hither with the three golden apples, after 
slaying the dragon with a hundred heads.” 

Meanwhile, Hercules travelled constantly onward, over hill 
and dale, and through the solitary woods. Sometimes he swung 
his club aloft, and splintered a mighty oak with a downright blow. 
His mind was so full of the giants and monsters with whom it 
was the business of his life to fight, that perhaps he mistook the 
great tree for a giant or a monster. And so eager was Hercules 
to achieve what he had undertaken, that he almost regretted to 
have spent so much time with the damsels, wasting idle breath 
upon the story of his adventures. But thus it always is with 
persons who are destined to perform great things. What they 
have already done seems less than nothing. What they have 
taken in hand to do seems worth toil, danger, and life itself. 

Persons who happened to be passing through the forest must 
have been affrighted to see him smite the trees with his great club. 
With but a single blow, the trunk was riven as by the stroke of 
lightning, and the broad boughs came rustling and crashing 
down. 

Hastening forward, without ever pausing or looking behind, 

94 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


he by and by heard the sea roaring at a distance. At this sound, 
he increased his speed, and soon came to a beach, where the great 
surf-waves tumbled themselves upon the hard sand, in a long 
line of snowy foam. At one end of the beach, however, there 
was a pleasant spot, where some green shrubbery clambered up 
a cliff, making its rocky face look soft and beautiful. A carpet 
of verdant grass, largely intermixed with sweet-smelling clover, 
covered the narrow space between the bottom of the cliff and the 
sea. And what should Hercules espy there, but an old man, fast 
asleep! 

But was it really and truly an old man? Certainly, at first 
sight, it looked very like one; but, on closer inspection, it rather 
seemed to be some kind of a creature that lived in the sea. For, 
on his legs and arms there were scales, such as fishes have; he 
was web-footed and web-fingered, after the fashion of a duck; 
and his long beard, being of a greenish tinge, had more the 
appearance of a tuft of sea-weed than of an ordinary beard. 
Have you never seen a stick of timber, that has been long tossed 
about by the waves, and has got all overgrown with barnacles, 
and, at last drifting ashore, seems to have been thrown up from 
the very deepest bottom of the sea? Well, the old man would 
have put you in mind of just such a wave-tost spar! But Her- 
cules, the instant he set eyes on this strange figure, was convinced 
that it could be no other than the Old One, who was to direct 
him on his way. 

Yes, it was the selfsame Old Man of the Sea whom the hos- 
pitable maidens had talked to him about. Thanking his stars 
for the lucky accident of finding the old fellow asleep, Her- 
cules stole on tiptoe towards him, and caught him by the arm 
and leg. 

“ Tel] me,” cried he, before the Old One was well awake, 
“which is the way to the garden of the Hesperides?” 

As you may easily imagine, the Old Man of the Sea awoke 

95 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


in a fright. But his astonishment could hardly have been greater 
than was that of Hercules, the next moment. For, all of a 
sudden, the Old One seemed to disappear out of his grasp, and 
he found himself holding a stag by the fore and hind leg! But 
still he kept fast hold. Then the stag disappeared, and in its 
stead there was a sea-bird, fluttering and screaming, while Her- 
cules clutched it by the wing and claw! But the bird could not 
get away. Immediately afterwards, there was an ugly three- 
headed dog, which growled and barked at Hercules, and snapped 
fiercely at the hands by which he held him! But Hercules would 
not let him go. In another minute, instead of the three-headed 
dog, what should appear but Geryon, the six-legged man-mon- 
ster, kicking at Hercules with five of his legs, in order to get 
the remaining one at liberty! But Hercules held on. By and 
by, no Geryon was there, but a huge snake, like one of those 
which Hercules had strangled in his babyhood, only a hundred 
times as big; and it twisted and twined about the hero’s neck 
and body, and threw its tail high into the air, and opened its 
deadly jaws as if to devour him outright; so that it was really 
avery terrible spectacle! But Hercules was no whit disheartened, 
and squeezed the great snake so tightly that he soon began to 
hiss with pain. 

You must understand that the Old Man of the Sea, though 
he generally looked so much like the wave-beaten figure-head of 
a vessel, had the power of assuming any shape he pleased. When 
he found himself so roughly seized by Hercules, he had been in 
hopes of putting him into such surprise and terror, by these mag- 
ical transformations, that the hero would be glad to let him go. 
If Hercules had relaxed his grasp, the Old One would certainly 
have plunged down to the very bottom of the sea, whence he 
would not soon have given himself the trouble of coming up, in 
order to answer any impertinent questions. Ninety-nine people 
out of a hundred, I suppose, would have been frightened out 

96 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


of their wits by the very first of his ugly shapes, and would have 
taken to their heels at once. For, one of the hardest things in 
this world is, to see the difference between real dangers and 
imaginary ones. 

But, as Hercules held on so stubbornly, and only squeezed 
the Old One so much the tighter at every change of shape, and 
really put him to no small torture, he finally thought it best 
to reappear in his own figure. So there he was again, a fishy, 
scaly, web-footed sort of personage, with something like a tuft 
of sea-weed at his chin. 

“Pray, what do you want with me?” cried the Old One, as 
soon as he could take breath; for it is quite a tiresome affair to 
go through so many false shapes. “ Why do you squeeze me 
so hard? Let me go, this moment, or I shall begin to consider 
you an extremely uncivil person! ” 

“My name is Hercules! ” roared the mighty stranger. “ And 
you will never get out of my clutch, until you tell me the nearest 
way to the garden of the Hesperides!” 

When the old fellow heard who it was that had caught him, 
he saw, with half an eye, that it would be necessary to tell him 
everything that he wanted to know. The Old One was an in- 
habitant of the sea, you must recollect, and roamed about every- 
where, like other sea-faring people. Of course, he had often 
heard of the fame of Hercules, and of the wonderful things that 
he was constantly performing, in various parts of the earth, and 
how determined he always was to accomplish whatever he un- 
dertook. He therefore made no more attempts to escape, but 
told the hero how to find the garden of the Hesperides, and like- 
wise warned him of many difficulties which must be overcome, 
before he could arrive thither. 

“You must go on, thus and thus,” said the Old Man of the 
Sea, after taking the points of the compass, “till you come in 
sight of a very tall giant, who holds the sky on his shoulders. 

7 97 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


And the giant, if he happens to be in the humor, will tell you 
exactly where the garden of the Hesperides lies.” 

“ And if the giant happens not to be in the humor,” remarked 
Hercules, balancing his club on the tip of his finger, “ perhaps 
I shall find means to persuade him!” 

Thanking the Old Man of the Sea, and begging his pardon 
for having squeezed him so roughly, the hero resumed his jour- 
ney. He met with a great many strange adventures, which 
would be well worth your hearing, if I had leisure to narrate 
them as minutely as they deserve. 

It was in this journey, if I mistake not, that he encountered 
a prodigious giant, who was so wonderfully contrived by nature, 
that, every time he touched the earth, he became ten times as 
strong as ever he had been before. His name was Anteus. You 
may see, plainly enough, that it was a very difficult business to 
fight with such a fellow; for, as often as he got a knock-down 
blow, up he started again, stronger, fiercer, and abler to use 
his weapons, than if his enemy had let him alone. Thus, the 
harder Hercules pounded the giant with his club, the further 
he seemed from winning the victory. I have sometimes argued 
with such people, but never fought with one. The only way 
in which Hercules found it possible to finish the battle, was by 
lifting Anteus off his feet into the air, and squeezing, and squeez- 
ing, and squeezing him, until, finally, the strength was quite 
squeezed out of his enormous body. 

When this affair was finished, Hercules continued his travels, 
and went to the land of Egypt, where he was taken prisoner, 
and would have been put to death, if he had not slain the king 
of the country, and made his escape. Passing through the deserts 
of Africa, and going as fast as he could, he arrived at last on 
the shore of the great ocean. And here, unless he could walk 
on the crests of the billows, it seemed as if his journey must 
needs be at an end. 

98 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


Nothing was before him, save the foaming, dashing, measure- 
less ocean. But, suddenly, as he looked towards the horizon, he 
saw something, a great way off, which he had not seen the moment 
before. It gleamed very brightly, almost as you may have be- 
held the round, golden disk of the sun, when it rises or sets over 
the edge of the world. It evidently drew nearer; for, at every 
instant, this wonderful object became larger and more lustrous. 
At length, it had come so nigh that Hercules discovered it to 
be an immense cup or bowl, made either of gold or burnished 
brass. How it had got afloat upon the sea is more than I can 
tell you. There it was, at all events, rolling on the tumultuous 
billows, which tossed it up and down, and heaved their foamy 
tops against its sides, but without ever throwing their spray over 
the brim. 

“TI have seen many giants, in my time,” thought Hercules, 
“but never one that would need to drink his wine out of a cup 
like this!” 

And, true enough, what a cup it must have been! It was 
as large — as large — but, in short, I am afraid to say how im- 
measurably large it was. To speak within bounds, it was ten 
times larger than a great mill-wheel; and, all of metal as it was, 
it floated over the heaving surges more lightly than an acorn-cup 
adown the brook. ‘The waves tumbled it onward, until it grazed 
against the shore, within a short distance of the spot where Her- 
cules was standing. 

As soon as this happened, he knew what was to be done; for 
he had not gone through so many remarkable adventures with- 
out learning pretty well how to conduct himself, whenever any- 
thing came to pass a little out of the common rule. It was just 
as clear as daylight that this marvellous cup had been set adrift 
by some unseen power, and guided hitherward, in order to carry 
Hercules across the sea, on his way to the garden of the Hes- 
perides. Accordingly, without a moment’s delay, he clambered 

99 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


over the brim, and slid down on the inside, where, spreading out 
his lion’s skin, he proceeded to take a little repose. He had 
scarcely rested, until now, since he bade farewell to the damsels 
on the margin of the river. The waves dashed, with a pleasant 
and ringing sound, against the circumference of the hollow cup; 
it rocked lightly to and fro, and the motion was so soothing that 
it speedily rocked Hercules into an agreeable slumber. 

His nap had probably lasted a good while, when the cup 
chanced to graze against a rock, and, in consequence, immedi- 
ately resounded and reverberated through its golden or brazen 
substance, a hundred times as loudly as ever you heard a church- 
bell. The noise awoke Hercules, who instantly started up and 
gazed around him, wondering whereabouts he was. He was not 
long in discovering that the cup had floated across a great part 
of the sea, and was approaching the shore of what seemed to 
be an island. And, on that island, what do you think he saw? 

No; you will never guess it, not if you were to try fifty 
thousand times! It positively appears to me that this was the 
most marvellous spectacle that had ever been seen by Hercules, 
in the whole course of his wonderful travels and adventures. It 
was a greater marvel than the hydra with nine heads, which kept — 
growing twice as fast as they were cut off; greater than the 
six-legged man-monster; greater than Anteus; greater than 
. anything that was ever beheld by anybody, before or since the 
days of Hercules, or than anything that remains to be beheld, 
by travellers in all time to come. It was a giant! 

But such an intolerably big giant! A giant as tall as a 
mountain; so vast a giant, that the clouds rested about his midst, 
like a girdle, and hung like a hoary beard from his chin, and 
flitted before his huge eyes, so that he could neither see Hercules 
nor the golden cup in which he was voyaging. And, most won- 
drful of all, the giant held up his great hands and appeared to 
support the sky, which, so far as Hercules could discern through 

100 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


the clouds, was resting upon his head! This does really seem 
almost too much to believe. 

Meanwhile, the bright cup continued to float onward, and 
finally touched the strand. Just then a breeze wafted away the 
clouds from before the giant’s visage, and Hercules beheld it, 
with all its enormous features; eyes each of them as big as 
yonder lake, a nose a mile long, and a mouth of the same width. 
It was a countenance terrible from its enormity of size, but dis- 
consolate and weary, even as you may see the faces of many 
people, nowadays, who are compelled to sustain burdens above 
their strength. What the sky was to the giant, such are the 
cares of earth to those who let themselves be weighed down by 
them. And whenever men undertake what is beyond the just 
measure of their abilities, they encounter precisely such a doom 
as had befallen this poor giant. 

Poor fellow! He had evidently stood there a long while. 
An ancient forest had been growing and decaying around his 
feet; and oak-trees, of six or seven centuries old, had sprung 
from the acorn, and forced themselves between his toes. 

The giant now looked down from the far height of his great 
eyes, and, perceiving Hercules, roared out, in a voice that re- 
sembled thunder, proceeding out of the cloud that had just flitted 
away from his face. 

“Who are you, down at my feet there? And whence do you 
come, in that little cup?” 

“T am Hercules! ” thundered back the hero, in a voice pretty 
nearly or quite as loud as the giant’s own. “ And I am seeking 
for the garden of the Hesperides!” 

“Ho! ho! ho!” roared the giant, in a fit of immense laugh- 
ter. “ That is a wise adventure, truly!” 

“ And why not?” cried Hercules, getting a little angry at 
the giant’s mirth. ‘Do you think I am afraid of the dragon 
with a hundred heads!” 

101 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


Just at this time, while they were talking together, some black 
clouds gathered about the giant’s middle, and burst into a tre- 
mendous storm of thunder and lightning, causing such a pother 
that Hercules found it impossible to distinguish a word. Only 
the giant’s immeasurable legs were to be seen, standing up into 
the obscurity of the tempest; and, now and then, a momentary 
glimpse of his whole figure, mantled in a volume of mist. He 
seemed to be speaking, most of the time; but his big, deep, rough 
voice chimed in with the reverberations of the thunder-claps, and | 
rolled away over the hills, like them. Thus, by talking out of 
season, the foolish giant expended an incalculable quantity of 
breath, to no purpose; for the thunder spoke quite as intelligibly 
as he. 

At last, the storm swept over, as suddenly as it had come. 
And there again was the clear sky, and the weary giant holding 
it up, and the pleasant sunshine beaming over his vast height, 
and illuminating it against the background of the sullen thunder- 
clouds. So far above the shower had been his head, that not a 
hair of it was moistened by the rain-drops! 

When the giant could see Hercules still standing on the sea- 
shore, he roared out to him anew. 

“T am Atlas, the mightiest giant in the world! And I hold 
the sky upon my head!” 

“So I see,” answered Hercules. “ But, can you show me 
the way to the garden of the Hesperides?” 

“What do you want there?” asked the giant. 

“TI want three of the golden apples,” shouted Hercules, “for 
my cousin, the king.” 

“There is nobody but myself,” quoth the giant, “that can 
go to the garden of the Hesperides, and gather the golden 
apples. If it were not for this little business of holding up the 
sky, I would make half a dozen steps across the sea, and get 
them for you.” 

102 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


“You are very kind,” replied Hercules. ‘“ And cannot you 
rest the sky upon a mountain? ” 

“None of them are quite high enough,” said Atlas, shaking 
his head. “ But, if you were to take your stand on the summit 
of that nearest one, your head would be pretty nearly on a level 
with mine. You seem to be a fellow of some strength. What 
if you should take my burden on your shoulders, while I do 
your errand for you?” 

Hercules, as you must be careful to remember, was a re- 
markably strong man; and though it certainly requires a great 
deal of muscular power to uphold the sky, yet, if any mortal 
could be supposed capable of such an exploit, he was the one. 
Nevertheless, it seemed so difficult an undertaking, that, for the 
first time in his life, he hesitated. 

“Is the sky very heavy?” he inquired. 

“Why, not particularly so, at first,’ answered the giant, 
shrugging his shoulders. “ But it gets to be a little burdensome, 
after a thousand years! ” 

“And how long a time,” asked the hero, “ will it take you 
to get the golden apples?” 

“Oh, that will be done in a few moments,” cried Atlas. “I 
shall take ten or fifteen miles at a stride, and be at the garden 
and back again before your shoulders begin to ache.” 

“Well, then,” answered Hercules, “I will climb the moun- 
tain behind you there, and relieve you of your burden.” 

The truth is, Hercules had a kind heart of his own, and con- 
sidered that he should be doing the giant a favor, by allowing 
him this opportunity for a ramble. And, besides, he thought that 
it would be still more for his own glory, if he could boast of up- 
holding the sky, than merely to do so ordinary a thing as to 
conquer a dragon with a hundred heads. Accordingly, without 
more words, the sky was shifted from the shoulders of Atlas, 
and placed upon those of Hercules. 

103 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


When this was safely accomplished, the first thing that the 
giant did was to stretch himself; and you may imagine what a 
prodigious spectacle he was then. Next, he slowly lifted one 
of his feet out of the forest that had grown up around it; then, 
the other. Then, all at once, he began to caper, and leap, and 
dance, for joy at his freedom; flinging himself nobody knows 
how high into the air, and floundering down again with a shock 
that made the earth tremble. Then he laughed — Ho! ho! ho! 
— with a thunderous roar that was echoed from the mountains, 
far and near, as if they and the giant had been so many rejoic- 
ing brothers. When his joy had a little subsided, he stepped into 
the sea; ten miles at the first stride, which brought him midleg 
deep; and ten miles at the second, when the water came just 
above his knees; and ten miles more at the third, by which he 
was immersed nearly to his waist. This was the greatest depth 
of the sea. 

Hercules watched the giant, as he still went onward; for it 
was really a wonderful sight, this immense human form, more 
than thirty miles off, half hidden in the ocean, but with his upper 
half as tall, and misty, and blue, as a distant mountain. At last 
the gigantic shape faded entirely out of view. And now Her- 
cules began to consider what he should do, in case Atlas should 
be drowned in the sea, or if he were to be stung to death by the 
dragon with the hundred heads, which guarded the golden apples 
of the Hesperides. If any such misfortune were to happen, how 
could he ever get rid of the sky? And, by the by, its weight 
began already to be a little irksome to his head and shoulders. 

“IT really pity the poor giant,” thought Hercules. “If it 
Wwearies me so much in ten minutes, how must it have wearied 
him in a thousand years!” 

O my sweet little people, you have no idea what a weight 
there was in that same blue sky, which looks so soft and aerial 
above our heads! And there, too, was the bluster of the wind, 

104 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


and the chill and watery clouds, and the blazing sun, all taking 
their turns to make Hercules uncomfortable! He began to be 
afraid that the giant would never come back. He gazed wist- 
fully at the world beneath him, and acknowledged to himself 
that it was a far happier kind of life to be a shepherd at the foot 
of a mountain, than to stand on its dizzy summit, and bear up 
the firmament with his might and main. For, of course, as you 
will easily understand, Hercules had an immense responsibility 
on his mind, as well as a weight on his head and shoulders. Why, 
if he did not stand perfectly still, and keep the sky immovable, 
the sun would perhaps be put ajar! Or, after nightfall, a great 
many of the stars might be loosened from their places, and 
shower down, like fiery rain, upon the people’s heads! And how 
ashamed would the hero be, if, owing to his unsteadiness beneath 
its weight, the sky should crack, and show a great fissure quite 
across it! 

I know not how long it was before, to his unspeakable joy, 
he beheld the huge shape of the giant, like a cloud, on the far- 
off edge of the sea. At his nearer approach, Atlas held up his 
hand, in which Hercules could perceive three magnificent golden 
apples, as big as pumpkins, all hanging from one branch. 

“I am glad to see you again,” shouted Hercules, when the 
giant was within hearing. “ So you have got the golden apples?” 

“ Certainly, certainly,” answered Atlas; “and very fair ap- 
ples they are. I took the finest that grew on the tree, I assure 
you. Ah! it is a beautiful spot, that garden of the Hesperides. 
Yes; and the dragon with a hundred heads is a sight worth any 
man’s seeing. After all, you had better have gone for the apples 
yourself.” 

~ No matter,” replied Hercules. “You have had a pleasant 
ramble, and have done the business as well as I could. I heartily 
thank you for your trouble. And now, as I have a long way 
to go, and am rather in haste, — and as the king, my cousin, is 

105 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


anxious to receive the golden apples, — will you be kind enough 
to take the sky off my shoulders again?” 

“Why, as to that,” said the giant, chucking the golden apples 
into the air twenty miles high, or thereabouts and catching them 
as they came down, — “as to that, my good friend, I consider 
you a little unreasonable. Cannot I carry the golden apples to 
the king, your cousin, much quicker than you could? As his 
majesty is in such a hurry to get them, I promise you to take 
my longest strides. And, besides, I have no fancy for burden- 
ing myself with the sky, just now.” 

Here Hercules grew impatient, and gave a great shrug of 
his shoulders. It being now twilight, you might have seen two 
or three stars tumble out of their places. Everybody on earth 
looked upward in affright, thinking that the sky might be going 
to fall next. 

“Oh, that will never do!” cried Giant Atlas, with a great 
roar of laughter. “I have not let fall so many stars within the 
last five centuries. By the time you have stood there as long 
as I did, you will begin to learn patience! ” 

“What!” shouted Hercules, very wrathfully, “do you in- 
tend to make me bear this burden forever?” 

“We will see about that, one of these days,” answered the 
giant. “ At all events, you ought not to complain, if you have 
to bear it the next hundred years, or perhaps the next thousand. 
I bore it a good while longer, in spite of the back-ache. Well, 
then, after a thousand years, if I happen to feel in the mood, we 
may possibly shift about again. You are certainly a very strong 
man, and can never have a better opportunity to prove it. Pos- 
terity will talk of you, I warrant it!” 

“Pish! a fig for its talk!’ cried Hercules, with another hitch 
of his shoulders. “ Just take the sky upon your head one in- 
stant, will you? I want to make a cushion of my lion’s skin, for 
the weight to rest upon. It really chafes me, and will cause 

106 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


unnecessary inconvenience in so many centuries as I am to stand 
here.” 

“ That ’s no more than fair, and I Il do it!” quoth the giant; 
for he had no unkind feeling towards Hercules, and was merely 
acting with a too selfish consideration of his own ease. “ For 
just five minutes, then, I ’ll take back the sky. Only for five 
minutes, recollect! I have no idea of spending another thousand 
years as I spent the last. Variety is the spice of life, say I.” 

Ah, the thick-witted old rogue of a giant! He threw down 
the golden apples, and received back the sky, from the head and 
shoulders of Hercules, upon his own, where it rightly belonged. 
And Hercules picked up the three golden apples, that were as 
big or bigger than pumpkins, and straightway set out on his 
journey homeward, without paying the slightest heed to the 
thundering tones of the giant, who bellowed after him to come 
back. Another forest sprang up around his feet, and grew an- 
cient there; and again might be seen oak-trees, of six or seven 
centuries old, that had waxed thus aged betwixt his enormous 
toes. 

And there stands the giant to this day; or, at any rate, there 
stands a mountain as tall as he, and which bears his name; and 
when the thunder rumbles about its summit, we may imagine it 
to be the voice of Giant Atlas, bellowing after Hercules! 


107 


Tanglewood Fireside 
After the Story 


been sitting at the story-teller’s feet, with his mouth 
wide open, “exactly how tall was this giant?” 

“O Sweet Fern, Sweet Fern!” cried the student, “do you 
think I was there, to measure him with a yard-stick? Well, if 
you must know to a hair’s-breadth, I suppose he might be from 
three to fifteen miles straight upward, and that he might have 
seated himself on Taconic, and had Monument Mountain for 
a footstool.” 

“Dear me!” ejaculated the good little boy, with a contented 
sort of a grunt, “that was a giant, sure enough! And how long 
was his little finger?” 

“As long as from Tanglewood to the lake,” said Eustace. 

“Sure enough, that was a giant!” repeated Sweet Fern, in 
an ecstasy at the precision of these measurements. “ And how 
broad, I wonder, were the shoulders of Hercules?” 

“That is what I have never been able to find out,” answered 
the student. “ But I think they must have been a great deal 
broader than mine, or than your father’s, or than almost any 
shoulders which one sees nowadays.” 

“T wish,” whispered Sweet Fern, with his mouth close to the 
student’s ear, “that you would tell me how big were some of 
the oak-trees that grew between the giant’s toes.” 

108 


of Crees EUSTACE,” demanded Sweet Fern, who had 


TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE 


“They were bigger,” said Eustace, “than the great chestnut- 
tree which stands beyond Captain Smith’s house.” 

“ Eustace,” remarked Mr. Pringle, after some deliberation, 
“I find it impossible to express such an opinion of this story as 
will be likely to gratify, in the smallest degree, your pride of 
authorship. Pray let me advise you never more to meddle with 
a classical myth. Your imagination is altogether Gothic, and 
will inevitably Gothicize everything that you touch. The effect 
is like bedaubing a marble statue with paint. This giant, now! 
How can you have ventured to thrust his huge, disproportioned 
mass among the seemly outlines of Grecian fable, the tendency 
of which is to reduce even the extravagant within limits, by its 
pervading elegance?” 

“TI described the giant as he appeared to me,” replied the 
student, rather piqued. “ And, sir, if you would only bring your 
mind into such a relation with these fables as is necessary in order 
to remodel them, you would see at once that an old Greek had 
no more exclusive right to them than a modern Yankee has. 
They are the common property of the world, and of all time. 
The ancient poets remodelled them at pleasure, and held them 
plastic in their hands; and why should they not be plastic in 
my hands as well?” 

Mr. Pringle could not forbear a smile. 

“ And besides,” continued Eustace, “the moment you put 
any warmth of heart, any passion or affection, any human or 
divine morality, into a classic mould, you make it quite another 
thing from what it was before. My own opinion is, that the 
Greeks, by taking possession of these legends (which were the 
immemorial birthright of mankind), and putting them into 
shapes of indestructible beauty, indeed, but cold and heartless, 
have done all subsequent ages an incalculable injury.” 

“Which you, doubtless, were born to remedy,” said Mr. 
Pringle, laughing outright. “Well, well, go on; but take my 

109 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


advice, and never put any of your travesties on paper. And, 
as your next effort, what if you should try your hand on some 
one of the legends of Apollo?” 

“ Ah, sir, you propose it as an impossibility,’ observed the 
student, after a moment’s meditation; “and, to be sure, at first 
thought, the idea of a Gothic Apollo strikes one rather ludi- 
crously. But I will turn over your suggestion in my mind, and 
do not quite despair of success.” 

During the above discussion, the children (who understood 
not a word of it) had grown very sleepy, and were now sent off 
to bed. Their drowsy babble was heard, ascending the staircase, 
while a northwest-wind roared loudly among the tree-tops of 
Tanglewood, and played an anthem around the house. Eustace 
Bright went back to the study, and again endeavored to hammer 
out some verses, but fell asleep between two of the rhymes. 


110 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 
The Hill-Side 


Introductory to “ The Miraculous Pitcher” 
a ae when, and where, do you think we find the children 


next? No longer in the winter-time, but in the merry 

month of May. No longer in Tanglewood play-room, 
or at Tanglewood fireside, but more than half-way up a mon- 
strous hill, or a mountain, as perhaps it would be better pleased 
to have us call it. They had set out from home with the mighty 
purpose of climbing this high hill, even to the very tiptop of its 
bald head. To be sure, it was not quite so high as Chimborazo, 
or Mont Blane, and was even a good deal lower than old Gray- 
lock. But, at any rate, it was higher than a thousand ant-hillocks, 
or a million of mole-hills; and, when measured by the short 
strides of little children, might be reckoned a very respectable 
mountain. 

And was Cousin Eustace with the party? Of that you may 
be certain; else how could the book go on a step further? He 
was now in the middle of the spring vacation, and looked pretty 
much as we saw him four or five months ago, except that, if you 
gazed quite closely at his upper lip, you could discern the fun- 
niest little bit of a mustache upon it. Setting aside this mark 
of mature manhood, you might have considered Cousin Eustace 
just as much a boy as when you first became acquainted with 
him. He was-as merry, as playful, as good-humored, as light 
of foot and of spirits, and equally a favorite with the little folks, 

111 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


as he had always been. This expedition up the mountain was 
entirely of his contrivance. All the way up the steep ascent, 
he had encouraged the elder children with his cheerful voice; and 
when Dandelion, Cowslip, and Squash-Blossom grew weary, he 
had lugged them along, alternately, on his back. In this man- 
ner, they had passed through the orchards and pastures on the 
lower part of the hill, and had reached the wood, which extends 
thence towards its bare summit. 

The month of May, thus far, had been more amiable than 
it often is, and this was as sweet and genial a day as the heart 
of man or child could wish. In their progress up the hill, the 
small people had found enough of violets, blue and white, and 
some that were as golden as if they had the touch of Midas on 
them. That sociablest of flowers, the little Houstonia, was very 
abundant. It is a flower that never lives alone, but which loves 
its own kind, and is always fond of dwelling with a great many 
friends and relatives around it. Sometimes you see a family 
of them, covering a space no bigger than the palm of your hand; 
and sometimes a large community, whitening a whole tract of 
pasture, and all keeping one another in cheerful heart and life. 

Within the verge of the wood there were columbines, look- 
mg more pale than red, because they were so modest, and had 
thought proper to seclude themselves too anxiously from the sun. 
There were wild geraniums, too, and a thousand white blossoms 
of the strawberry. The trailing arbutus was not yet quite out 
of bloom; but it hid its precious flowers under the last year’s 
withered forest-leaves, as carefully as a mother-bird hides its little 
young ones. It knew, I suppose, how beautiful and sweet-scented 
they were. So cunning was their concealment, that the children 
sometimes smelt the delicate richness of their perfume before 
they knew whence it proceeded. 

Amid so much new life, it was strange and truly pitiful to 
behold, here and there, in the fields and pastures, the hoary peri- 

112 


THE HILL-SIDE 


wigs of dandelions that had already gone to seed. They had 
done with summer before the summer came. Within those small 
globes of winged seeds it was autumn now! 

Well, but we must not waste our valuable pages with any more 
talk about the spring-time and wild flowers. There is something, 
we hope, more interesting to be talked about. If you look at 
the group of children, you may see them all gathered around 
Eustace Bright, who, sitting on the stump of a tree, seems to 
be just beginning a story. The fact is, the younger part of the 
troop have found out that it takes rather too many of their short 
strides to measure the long ascent of the hill. Cousin Eustace, 
therefore, has decided to leave Sweet Fern, Cowslip, Squash- 
Blossom, and Dandelion, at this point, midway up, until the re- 
turn of the rest of the party from the summit. And because 
they complain a little, and do not quite like to stay behind, he 
gives them some apples out of his pocket, and proposes to tell 
them a very pretty story. Hereupon they brighten up, and 
change their grieved looks into the broadest kind of smiles. 

As for the story, I was there to hear it, hidden behind a bush, 
and shall tell it over to you in the pages that come next. 


8 113 


The Miraculous Pitcher 


NE evening, in times long ago, old Philemon and his old 
wife Baucis sat at their cottage-door, enjoying the calm 
and beautiful sunset. They had already eaten their 

frugal supper, and intended now to spend a quiet hour or two 
before bedtime. So they talked together about their garden, 
and their cow, and their bees, and their grapevine, which clam- 
bered over the cottage-wall, and on which the grapes were be- 
ginning to turn purple. But the rude shouts of children, and 
the fierce barking of dogs, in the village near at hand, grew 
louder and louder, until, at last, it was hardly possible for Baucis 
and Philemon to hear each other speak. 

“ Ah, wife,” cried Philemon, “I fear some poor traveller is 
seeking hospitality among our neighbors yonder, and, instead of 
giving him food and lodging, they have set their dogs at him, 
as their custom is!” 

“ Well-a-day!”” answered old Baucis, “I do wish our neigh- 
bors felt a little more kindness for their fellow-creatures. And 
only think of bringing up their children in this naughty way, 
and patting them on the head when they fling stones at 
strangers!” 

“ Those children will never come to any good,” said Philemon, 
shaking his white head. “To tell you the truth, wife, I should 
not wonder if some terrible thing were to happen to all the people 
in the village, unless they mend their manners. But, as for you 
and me, so long as Providence affords us a crust of bread, let 

114 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


us be ready to give half to any poor, homeless stranger, that may 
come along and need it.” 

“That ’s right, husband!” said Baucis. “So we will!” 

These old folks, you must know, were quite poor, and had to 
work pretty hard for a living. Old Philemon toiled diligently 
in his garden, while Baucis was always busy with her distaff, or 
making a little butter and cheese with their cow’s milk, or doing 
one thing and another about the cottage. Their food was seldom 
anything but bread, milk, and vegetables, with sometimes a por- 
tion of honey from their beehive, and now and then a bunch of 
grapes, that had ripened against the cottage wall. But they were 
two of the kindest old people in the world, and would cheerfully 
have gone without their dinners, any day, rather than refuse a 
slice of their brown loaf, a cup of new milk, and a spoonful of 
honey, to the weary traveller who might pause before their door. 
They felt as if such guests had a sort of holiness, and that they 
ought, therefore, to treat them better and more bountifully than 
their own selves. 

Their cottage stood on a rising ground, at some short dis- 
tance from a village, which lay in a hollow valley, that was about 
half a mile in breadth. This valley, in past ages, when the world 
was new, had probably been the bed of a lake. There, fishes had 
glided to and fro in the depths, and water-weeds had grown along 
the margin, and trees and hills had seen their reflected images 
in the broad and peaceful mirror. But, as the waters subsided, 
men had cultivated the soil, and built houses on it, so that it 
was now a fertile spot, and bore no traces of the ancient lake, 
except a very small brook, which meandered through the midst 
of the village, and supplied the inhabitants with water. The 
valley had been dry land so long, that oaks had sprung up, and 
grown great and high, and perished with old age, and been suc- 
ceeded by others, as tall and stately as the first. Never was 
there a prettier or more fruitful valley. The very sight of the 

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THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


plenty around them should have made the inhabitants kind and 
gentle, and ready to show their gratitude to Providence by doing 
good to their fellow-creatures. 

But, we are sorry to say, the people of this lovely village 
were not worthy to dwell in a spot on which Heaven had smiled 
so beneficently. They were a very selfish and hard-hearted 
people, and had no pity for the poor, nor sympathy with the 
homeless. ‘They would only have laughed, had anybody told 
them that human beings owe a debt of love to one another, be- 
cause there is no other method of paying the debt of love and 
care which all of us owe to Providence. You will hardly believe 
what I am going to tell you. These naughty people taught 
their children to be no better than themselves, and used to clap 
their hands, by way of encouragement, when they saw the little 
boys and girls run after some poor stranger, shouting at his 
heels, and pelting him with stones. They kept large and fierce 
dogs, and whenever a traveller ventured to show himself in the 
village street, this pack of disagreeable curs scampered to meet 
him, barking, snarling, and showing their teeth. Then they 
would seize him by his leg, or by his clothes, just as it happened; 
and if he were ragged when he came, he was generally a piti- 
able object before he had time to run away. This was a very 
terrible thing to poor travellers, as you may suppose, especially 
when they chanced to be sick, or feeble, or lame, or old. Such 
persons (if they once knew how badly these unkind people, and 
their unkind children and curs, were in the habit of behaving) 
would go miles and miles out of their way, rather than try to 
pass through the village again. 

What made the matter seem worse, if possible, was that when 
rich persons came in their chariots, or riding on beautiful horses, 
with their servants in rich liveries attending on them, nobody 
could be more civil and obsequious than the inhabitants of the 
village. They would take off their hats, and make the humblest 

116 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


bows you ever saw. If the children were rude, they were pretty 
certain to get their ears boxed; and as for the dogs, if a single 
cur in the pack presumed to yelp, his master instantly beat him 
with a club, and tied him up without any supper. This would 
have been all very well, only it proved that the villagers cared 
much about the money that a stranger had in his pocket, and 
nothing whatever for the human soul, vata lives equally in the 
beggar and the prince. 

So now you can understand why old Philemon spoke so sor- 
rowfully, when he heard the shouts of the children and the bark- 
ing of the dogs, at the farther extremity of the village street. 
There was a confused din, which lasted a good while, and seemed 
to pass quite through the breadth of the valley. 

“I never heard the dogs so loud!” observed the good old 
man. 

“ Nor the children so rude!” answered his good old wife. 

They sat shaking their heads, one to another, while the noise 
came nearer and nearer; until, at the foot of the little eminence 
on which their cottage stood, they saw two travellers approach- 
ing on foot. Close behind them came the fierce dogs, snarling 
at their very heels. A little farther off, ran a crowd of children, 
who sent up shrill cries, and flung stones at the two strangers, 
with all their might. Once or twice, the younger of the two men 
(he was a slender and very active figure) turned about and 
drove back the dogs with a staff which he carried in his hand. 
His companion, who was a very tall person, walked calmly along, 
as if disdaining to notice either the naughty children, or the pack 
of curs, whose manners the children seemed to imitate. 

Both of the travellers were very humbly clad, and looked as 
if they might not have money enough in their pockets to pay 
for a night’s lodging. And this, I am afraid, was the reason 
why the villagers had allowed their children and dogs to treat 
them so rudely. 

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THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


“Come, wife,” said Philemon to Baucis, “let us go and meet 
these poor people. No doubt, they feel almost too heavy-hearted 
to climb the hill.” 

“Go you and meet them,” answered Baucis, “ while I make 
haste within doors, and see whether we can get them anything 
for supper. A comfortable bowl of bread and milk would do 
wonders towards raising their spirits.” 

Accordingly, she hastened into the cottage. Philemon, on 
his part, went forward, and extended his hand with so hospitable 
an aspect that there was no need of saying what nevertheless he 
did say, in the heartiest tone imaginable, — 

“Welcome, strangers! welcome! ” 

“Thank you!” replied the younger of the two, in a lively 
kind of way, notwithstanding his weariness and trouble. “This 
is quite another greeting than we have met with yonder in the 
village. Pray, why do you live in such a bad neighborhood?” 

“ Ah!” observed old Philemon, with a quiet and benign 
smile, ‘‘ Providence put me here, I hope, among other reasons, 
in order that I may make you what amends I can for the inhos- 
pitality of my neighbors.” 

“Well said, old father!” cried the traveller, laughing; “and, 
if the truth must be told, my companion and myself need some 
amends. ‘Those children (the little rascals!) have bespattered 
us finely with their mud-balls; and one of the curs has torn my 
cloak, which was ragged enough already. But I took him across 
the muzzle with my staff; and I think you may have heard him 
yelp, even thus far off.” 

Philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits; nor, in- 
deed, would you have fancied, by the traveller’s look and man- 
ner, that he was weary with a long day’s journey, besides being 
disheartened by rough treatment at the end of it. He was 
dressed in rather an odd way, with a sort of cap on his head, the 
brim of which stuck out over both ears. Though it was a summer 

118 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


evening, he wore a cloak, which he kept wrapt closely about him, 
perhaps because his under garments were shabby Philemon 
perceived, too, that he had on a singular pair of shves; but, as 
it was now growing dusk, and as the old man’s eyesight was none 
the sharpest, he could not precisely tell in what the strangeness 
consisted. One thing, certainly, seemed queer. The traveller 
was so wonderfully light and active, that it appeared as if his 
feet sometimes rose from the ground of their own accord, or 
could only be kept down by an effort. 

“T used to be light-footed, in my youth,” said Philemon to 
the traveller. “ But I always found my feet grow heavier towards 
nightfall.” 

“There is nothing like a good staff to help one along,” an- 
swered the stranger; “and I happen to have an excellent one, 
as you see.” 

This staff, in fact, was the oddest-looking staff that Philemon 
had ever beheld. It was made of olivewood, and had something 
like a little pair of wings near the top. Two snakes, carved in 
the wood, were represented as twining themselves about the staff, 
and were so very skilfully executed that old Philemon (whose 
eyes, you know, were getting rather dim) almost thought them 
alive, and that he could see them wriggling and twisting. 

“A curious piece of work, sure enough!” said he. “A staff 
with wings! It would be an excellent kind of stick for a little 
boy to ride astride of!” 

By this time, Philemon and his two guests had reached the 
cottage door. 

“Friends,” said the old man, “sit down and rest yourselves 
here on this bench. My good wife Baucis has gone to see what 
you can have for supper. We are poor folks; but you shall be 
welcome to whatever we have in the cupboard.” 

The younger stranger threw himself carelessly on the bench, 
letting his staff fall, as he did so. And here happened something 

119 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


rather marvellous, though trifling enough, too. The staff seemed 
to get up from the ground of its own accord, and, spreading its 
little pair of wings, it half hopped, half flew, and leaned itself 
against the wall of the cottage. ‘There it stood quite still, ex- 
cept that the snakes continued to wriggle. But, in my private 
opinion, old Philemon’s eyesight had been playing him tricks 
again. 

Before he could ask any questions, the elder stranger drew 
his attention from the wonderful staff, by speaking to him. 

“Was there not,” asked the stranger, in a remarkably deep 
tone of voice, “a lake, in very ancient times, covering the spot 
where now stands yonder village?” 

“Not in my day, friend,” answered Philemon; “and yet I 
am an old man, as you see. There were always the fields and 
meadows, just as they are now, and the old trees, and the little 
stream murmuring through the midst of the valley. My father, 
nor his father before him, ever saw it otherwise, so far as I know; 
and doubtless it will still be the same, when old Philemon shall 
be gone and forgotten!” 

“That is more than can be safely foretold,’ observed the 
stranger; and there was something very stern in his deep voice. 
He shook his head, too, so that his dark and heavy curls were 
shaken with the movement. “Since the inhabitants of yonder 
village have forgotten the affections and sympathies of their 
nature, it were better that the lake should be rippling over their 
dwellings again!” 

The traveller looked so stern, that Philemon was really almost 
frightened; the more so, that, at his frown, the twilight seemed 
suddenly to grow darker, and that, when he shook his head, there 
was a roll as of thunder in the air. 

But, in a moment afterwards, the stranger’s face became so 
kindly and mild that the old man quite forgot his terror. 
Nevertheless, he could not help feeling that this elder traveller 

120 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


must be no ordinary personage, although he happened now to 
be attired so humbly and to be journeying on foot. Not that 
Philemon fancied him a prince in disguise, or any character of 
that sort; but rather some exceedingly wise man, who went 
about the world in this poor garb, despising wealth and all 
worldly objects, and seeking everywhere to add a mite to his 
wisdom. ‘This idea appeared the more probable, because, when 
Philemon raised his eyes to the stranger’s face, he seemed to 
see more thought there, in one look, than he could have studied 
out in a lifetime. 

While Baucis was getting the supper, the travellers both 
began to talk very sociably with Philemon. The younger, in- 
deed, was extremely loquacious, and made such shrewd and witty 
remarks, that the good old man continually burst out a-laughing, 
and pronounced him the merriest fellow whom he had seen for 
many a day. 

“Pray, my young friend,” said he, as they grew familiar to- 
gether, “ what may I call your name?” 

“ Why, I am very nimble, as you see,” answered the traveller. 
“So, if you call me Quicksilver, the name will fit tolerably 
well.” 

“ Quicksilver? Quicksilver?” repeated Philemon, looking in 
the traveller’s face, to see if he were making fun of him. “ It 
is a very odd name! And your companion there? Has he as 
strange a one?” 

“You must ask the thunder to tell it you!” replied Quick- 
silver, putting on a mysterious look. “No other voice is loud 
enough.” 

This remark, whether it were serious or in jest, might have 
caused Philemon to conceive a very great awe of the elder 
stranger, if, on venturing to gaze at him, he had not beheld so 
much beneficence in his visage. But, undoubtedly, here was the 
grandest figure that ever sat so humbly beside a cottage door. 

121 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


When the stranger conversed, it was with gravity, and in such 
a way that Philemon felt irresistibly moved to tell him every- 
thing which he had most at heart. This is always the feeling 
that people have, when they meet with any one wise enough to 
comprehend all their good and evil, and to despise not a tittle 
Ofsak, 

But Philemon, simple and kind-hearted old man that he was, 
had not many secrets to disclose. He talked, however, quite 
garrulously, about the events of his past life, in the whole course 
of which he had never been a score of miles from this very spot. 
His wife Baucis and himself had dwelt in the cottage from their 
youth upward, earning their bread by honest labor, always poor, 
but still contented. He told what excellent butter and cheese 
Baucis made, and how nice were the vegetables which he raised 
in his garden. He said, too, that, because they loved one another 
so very much, it was the wish of both that death might not 
separate them, but that they should die, as they had lived, 
together. 

As the stranger listened, a smile beamed over his countenance, 
and made its expression as sweet as it was grand. 

“You are a good old man,” said he to Philemon, “and you 
have a good old wife to be your helpmeet. It is fit that your 
wish be granted.” 

And it seemed to Philemon, just then, as if the sunset clouds 
threw up a bright flash from the west, and kindled a sudden light 
in the sky. 

Baucis had now got supper ready, and, coming to the door, 
began to make apologies for the poor fare which she was forced 
to set before her guests. 

“Had we known you were coming,” said she, “my good man 
and myself would have gone without a morsel, rather than you 
should lack a better supper. But I took the most part of to-day’s 
milk to make cheese; and our last loaf is already half eaten. Ah 

122 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


me! I never feel the sorrow of being poor, save when a poor 
traveller knocks at our door.” 

“All will be very well; do not trouble yourself, my good 
dame,” replied the elder stranger, kindly. “ An honest, hearty 
welcome to a guest works miracles with the fare, and is capable 
of turning the coarsest food to nectar and ambrosia.” 

‘““A welcome you shall have,” cried Baucis, “and likewise a 
little honey that we happen to have left, and a bunch of purple 
grapes besides.” 

“Why, Mother Baucis, it is a feast!” exclaimed Quicksilver, 
laughing, “an absolute feast! and you shall see how bravely I 
will play my part at it! I think I never felt hungrier in my 
life.” 

“Mercy on us!” whispered Baucis to her husband. “If the 
young man has such a terrible appetite, I am afraid there will 
not be half enough supper! ” 

They all went into the cottage. 

And now, my little auditors, shall I tell you something that 
will make you open your eyes very wide? It is really one of 
the oddest circumstances in the whole story. Quicksilver’s staff, 
you recollect, had set itself up against the wall of the cottage. 
Well; when its master entered the door, leaving this wonderful 
staff behind, what should it do but immediately spread its little 
wings, and go hopping and fluttering up the door steps! Tap, 
tap, went the staff, on the kitchen floor; nor did it rest until it 
had stood itself on end, with the greatest gravity and decorum, 
beside Quicksilver’s chair. Old Philemon, however, as well as 
his wife, was so taken up in attending to their guests, that no 
notice was given to what the staff had been about. j 

As Baucis had said, there was but a scanty supper for two 
hungry travellers. In the middle of the table was the remnant 
of a brown loaf, with a piece of cheese on one side of it, and a 
dish of honeycomb on the other. There was a pretty good bunch 

123 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


of grapes for each of the guests. A moderately sized earthen 
pitcher, nearly full of milk, stood at a corner of the board; and 
when Baucis had filled two bowls, and set them before the 
strangers, only a little milk remained in the bottom of the pitcher. 
Alas! it is a very sad business, when a bountiful heart finds 
itself pinched and squeezed among narrow circumstances. Poor 
Baucis kept wishing that she might starve for a week to come, 
if it were possible, by so doing, to provide these hungry folks 
a more plentiful supper. 

And, since the supper was so exceedingly small, she could not 
help wishing that their appetites had not been quite so large. 
Why, at their very first sitting down, the travellers both drank 
off all the milk in their two bowls, at a draught. 

“A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you please,” said 
Quicksilver. “The day has been hot, and I am very much 
athirst.” 

“Now, my dear people,” answered Baucis, in great confusion, 
“IT am so sorry and ashamed! But the truth is, there is hardly 
a drop more milk in the pitcher. O husband! husband! why 
did n’t we go without our supper?” 

“Why, it appears to me,” cried Quicksilver, starting up from 
table and taking the pitcher by the handle, “it really appears 
to me that matters are not quite so bad as you represent them. 
Here is certainly more milk in the pitcher.” 

So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis, he pro- 
ceeded to fill, not only his own bowl, but his companion’s like- 
wise, from the pitcher, that was supposed to be almost empty. 
The good woman could scarcely believe her eyes. She had cer- 
tainly poured out nearly all the milk, and had peeped in after- 
wards, and seen the bottom of the pitcher, as she set it down 
upon the table. 

“But I am old,” thought Baucis to herself, “and apt to be 
forgetful. I suppose I must have made a mistake. At all events, 

124 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


the pitcher cannot help being empty now, after filling the bowls 
twice over.” 

“What excellent milk!” observed Quicksilver, after quaff- 
ing the contents of the second bowl. “Excuse me, my kind 
hostess, but I must really ask you for a little more.” 

Now Baucis had seen, as plainly as she could see anything, 
that Quicksilver had turned the pitcher upside down, and con- 
sequently had poured out every drop of milk, in filling the last 
bowl. Of course, there could not possibly be any left. How- 
ever, in order to let him know precisely how the case was, she 
lifted the pitcher, and made a gesture as if pouring milk into 
Quicksilver’s bowl, but without the remotest idea that any milk 
would stream forth. What was her surprise, therefore, when 
such an abundant cascade fell bubbling into the bowl, that it 
was immediately filled to the brim, and overflowed upon the 
table! ‘The two snakes that were twisted about Quicksilver’s 
staff (but neither Baucis nor Philemon happened to observe this 
circumstance) stretched out their heads, and began to lap up the 
spilt milk. 

And then what a delicious fragrance the milk had! It seemed 
as if Philemon’s only cow must have pastured, that day, on the 
richest herbage that could be found anywhere in the world. I 
only wish that each of you, my beloved little souls, could have 
a bowl of such nice milk, at supper-time! 

“And now a slice of your brown loaf, Mother Baucis,” said 
Quicksilver, “and a little of that honey!” 

Baucis cut him a slice, accordingly; and though the loaf, 
when she and her husband ate of it, had been rather too dry and 
crusty to be palatable, it was now as light and moist as if but 
a few hours out of the oven. Tasting a crumb, which had fallen 
on the table, she found it more delicious than bread ever was 
before, and could hardly believe that it was a loaf of her own 
kneading and baking. Yet, what other loaf could it possibly be? 


125 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


But, oh the honey! I may just as well let it alone, without 
trying to describe how exquisitely it smelt and looked. Its color 
was that of the purest and most transparent gold; and it had 
the odor of a thousand flowers; but of such flowers as never 
grew in an earthly garden, and to seek which the bees must 
have flown high above the clouds. The wonder is, that, after 
alighting on a flower-bed of so delicious fragrance and immortal 
bloom, they should have been content to fly down again to their 
hive in Philemon’s garden. Never was such honey tasted, seen, © 
or smelt. ‘The perfume floated around the kitchen, and made it 
so delightful, that, had you closed your eyes, you would instantly 
have forgotten the low ceiling and smoky walls, and have fancied 
yourself in an arbor, with celestial honeysuckles creeping over it. 

Although good Mother Baucis was a simple old dame, she 
could not but think that there was something rather out of the 
common way, in all that had been going on. So, after helping 
the guests to bread and honey, and laying a bunch of grapes by 
each of their plates, she sat down by Philemon, and told him 
what she had seen, in a whisper. 

“Did you ever hear the like?” asked she. 

“No, I never did,” answered Philemon, with a smile. “ And 
I rather think, my dear old wife, you have been walking about 
in a sort of a dream. If I had poured out the milk, I should 
have seen through the business at once. There happened to be 
a little more in the pitcher than you thought, — that is all.” 

“Ah, husband,” said Baucis, “say what you will these are 
very uncommon people.” 

“Well, well,” replied Philemon, still smiling, “ perhaps they 
are. ‘They certainly do look as if they had seen better days; 
and I am heartily glad to see them making so comfortable a 
supper.” 

Each of the guests had now taken his bunch of grapes upon 
his plate. Baucis (who rubbed her eyes, in order to see the more 

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THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


clearly) was of opinion that the clusters had grown larger and 
richer, and that each separate grape seemed to be on the point 
of bursting with ripe juice. It was entirely a mystery to her 
how such grapes could ever have been produced from the old 
stunted vine that climbed against the cottage wall. 

“Very admirable grapes these!” observed Quicksilver, as 
he swallowed one after another, without apparently diminish- 
ing his cluster. “ Pray, my good host, whence did you gather 
them?” 

“ From my own vine,” answered Philemon. “ You may see 
one of its branches twisting across the window, yonder. But wife 
and I never thought the grapes very fine ones.” 

“I never tasted better,” said the guest. “ Another cup of 
this delicious milk, if you please, and I shall then have supped 
better than a prince.” 

This time, old Philemon bestirred himself, and took up the 
pitcher; for he was curious to discover whether there was any 
reality in the marvels which Baucis had whispered to him. He 
knew that his good old wife was incapable of falsehood, and 
that she was seldom mistaken in what she supposed to be true; 
but this was so very singular a case, that he wanted to see into 
it with his own eyes. On taking up the pitcher, therefore, he 
slyly peeped into it, and was fully satisfied that it contained 
not so much as a single drop. All at once, however, he beheld 
a little white fountain, which gushed up from the bottom of the 
pitcher, and speedily filled it to the brim with foaming and de- 
liciously fragrant milk. It was lucky that Philemon, in his sur- 
prise, did not drop the miraculous pitcher from his hand. 

“Who are ye, wonder-working strangers!” cried he, even 
more bewildered than his wife had been. 

“Your guests, my good Philemon, and your friends,” replied 
the elder traveller, in his mild, deep voice, that had something at 
once sweet and awe-inspiring in it. “Give me likewise a cup of 

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THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


the milk; and may your pitcher never be empty for kind Baucis 
and yourself, any more than for the needy wayfarer! ” 

The supper being now over, the strangers requested to be 
shown to their place of repose. The old people would gladly have 
talked with them a little longer, and have expressed the wonder 
which they felt, and their delight at finding the poor and meagre 
supper prove so much better and more abundant than they hoped. 
But the elder traveller had inspired them with such reverence, 
that they dared not ask him any questions. And when Phile- 
mon drew Quicksilver aside, and inquired how under the sun a 
fountain of milk could have got into an old earthen pitcher, 
this latter personage pointed to his staff. 

“There is the whole mystery of the affair,” quoth Quick- 
silver; “and if you can make it out, Ill thank you to let me 
know. I can’t tell what to make of my staff. It is always 
playing such odd tricks as this; sometimes getting me a supper, 
and, quite as often, stealing it away. If I had any faith in such 
nonsense, I should say the stick was bewitched!” 

He said no more, but looked so slyly in their faces, that they 
rather fancied he was laughing at them. The magic staff went 
hopping at his heels, as Quicksilver quitted the room. When 
left alone, the good old couple spent some little time in conver- 
sation about the events of the evening, and then lay down on 
the floor, and fell fast asleep. ‘They had given up their sleep- 
ing-room to the guests, and had no other bed for themselves, 
save these planks, which I wish had been as soft as their own 
hearts. 

The old man and his wife were stirring, betimes, in the 
morning, and the strangers likewise arose with the sun, and made 
their preparations to depart. Philemon hospitably entreated 
them to remain a little longer, until Baucis could milk the cow, 
and bake a cake upon the hearth, and, perhaps, find them a few 
fresh eggs, for breakfast. The guests, however, seemed to think 

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THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


it better to accomplish a good part of their journey before the 
heat of the day should come on. They, therefore, persisted in 
setting out immediately, but asked Philemon and Baucis to walk 
forth with them a short distance, and show them the road which 
they were to take. 

So they all four issued from the cottage, chatting together 
like old friends. It was very remarkable, indeed, how familiar 
the old couple insensibly grew with the elder traveller, and how 
their good and simple spirits melted into his, even as two drops 
of water would melt into the illimitable ocean. And as for Quick- 
silver, with his keen, quick, laughing wits, he appeared to dis- 
cover every little thought that but peeped into their minds, be- 
fore they suspected it themselves. They sometimes wished, it is 
true, that he had not been quite so quick-witted, and also that 
he would fling away his staff, which looked so mysteriously mis- 
chievous, with the snakes always writhing about it. But then, 
again, Quicksilver showed himself so very good-humored, that 
they would have been rejoiced to keep him in their cottage, staff, 
snakes, and all, every day, and the whole day long. 

“Ah me! Well-a-day!” exclaimed Philemon, when they had 
walked a little way from their door. “If our neighbors only 
knew what a blessed thing it is to show hospitality to strangers, 
they would tie up all their dogs, and never allow their children 
to fling another stone.” 

“Tt is a sin and shame for them to behave so, — that it is!” 
cried good old Baucis, vehemently. “ And I mean to go this 
very day, and tell some of them what naughty people they are!” 

“T fear,” remarked Quicksilver, slyly smiling, “that you will 
find none of them at home.” 

The elder traveller’s brow, just then, assumed such a grave, 
stern, and awful grandeur, yet serene withal, that neither Baucis 
nor Philemon dared to speak a word. They gazed reverently 
into his face, as if they had been gazing at the sky. 

9 129 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


“‘When men do not feel towards the humblest stranger as 
if he were a brother,” said the traveller, in tones so deep that 
they sounded like those of an organ, “ they are unworthy to exist 
on earth, which was created as the abode of a great human 
brotherhood! ” 

“ And, by the by, my dear old people,” cried Quicksilver, 
with the liveliest look of fun and mischief in his eyes, ‘“ where 
is this same village that you talk about? On which side of us 
does it lie? Methinks I do not see it hereabouts.” 

Philemon and his wife turned towards the valley, where, at 
sunset, only the day before, they had seen the meadows, the 
houses, the gardens, the clumps of trees, the wide, green-margined 
street, with children playing in it, and all the tokens of business, 
enjoyment, and prosperity. But what was their astonishment! 
There was no longer any appearance of a village! Even the 
fertile vale, in the hollow of which it lay, had ceased to have 
existence. In its stead, they beheld the broad, blue surface of 
a lake, which filled the great basin of the valley from brim to 
brim, and reflected the surrounding hills in its bosom with as 
tranquil an image as if it had been there ever since the creation 
of the world. For an instant, the lake remained perfectly smooth. 
Then, a little breeze sprang up, and caused the water to dance, 
glitter, and sparkle in the early sunbeams, and to dash, with a 
pleasant rippling murmur, against the hither shore. 

The lake seemed so strangely familiar, that the old couple 
were greatly perplexed, and felt as if they could only have been 
dreaming about a village having lain there. But, the next mo- 
ment, they remembered the vanished dwellings, and the faces and 
characters of the inhabitants, far too distinctly for a dream. The 
village had been there yesterday, and now was gone! 

‘ Alas!” cried these kind-hearted old people, “ what has 
become of our poor neighbors?” 

“They exist no longer as men and women,” said the elder 

130 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


traveller, in his grand and deep voice, while a roll of thunder 
seemed to echo it at a distance. ‘‘ There was neither use nor 
beauty in such a life as theirs; for they never softened or sweet- 
ened the hard lot of mortality by the exercise of kindly affections 
between man and man. They retained no image of the better 
life in their bosoms; therefore, the lake, that was of old, has 
spread itself forth again, to reflect the sky!” 

“ And as for those foolish people,” said Quicksilver, with his 
mischievous smile, “they are all transformed to fishes. ‘There 
needed but little change, for they were already a scaly set of 
rascals, and the coldest-blooded beings in existence. So, kind 
Mother Baucis, whenever you or your husband have an appetite 
for a dish of broiled trout, he can throw in a line, and pull out 
half a dozen of your old neighbors!” 

“ Ah,” cried Baucis, shuddering, “ I would not, for the world, 
put one of them on the gridiron!” 

“No,” added Philemon, making a wry face, “ we could never 
relish them!” 

“As for you, good Philemon,” continued the elder traveller, 
— “and you, kind Baucis, — you, with your scanty means, have 
mingled so much heartfelt hospitality with your entertainment of 
the homeless stranger, that the milk became an inexhaustible fount 
of nectar, and the brown loaf and the honey were ambrosia. Thus, 
the divinities have feasted, at your board, off the same viands that 
supply their banquets on Olympus. You have done well, my 
dear old friends. Wherefore, request whatever favor you have 
most at heart, and it is granted.” 

Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and then, — I 
know not which of the two it was who spoke, but that one uttered 
the desire of both their hearts. 

“Let us live together, while we live, and leave the world at 
the same instant, when we die! For we have always loved one 
another! ” 

131 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


“Be it so!” replied the stranger, with majestic kindness. 
“Now, look towards your cottage! ” 

They did so. But what was their surprise on beholding a 
tall edifice of white marble, with a wide-open portal, occupying 
the spot where their humble residence had so lately stood! 

“There is your home,” said the stranger, beneficently smiling 


on them both. “ Exercise your hospitality in yonder palace as 
freely as in the poor hovel to which you welcomed us last 
evening.” 


The old folks fell on their knees to thank him; but, behold! 
neither he nor Quicksilver was there. 

So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in the marble 
palace, and spent their time, with vast satisfaction to themselves, 
in making everybody jolly and comfortable who happened to pass 
that way. The milk-pitcher, I must not forget to say, retained 
its marvellous quality of being never empty, when it was desirable 
to have it full. Whenever an honest, good-humored, and free- 
hearted guest took a draught from this pitcher, he invariably 
found it the sweetest and most invigorating fluid that ever ran 
down his throat. But, if a cross and disagreeable curmudgeon 
happened to sip, he was pretty certain to twist his visage into 
a hard knot, and pronounce it a pitcher of sour milk! 

Thus the old couple lived in their palace a great, great while, 
and grew older and older, and very old indeed. At length, how- 
ever, there came a summer morning when Philemon and Baucis 
failed to make their appearance, as on other mornings, with one 
hospitable smile overspreading both their pleasant faces, to invite 
the guests of over-night to breakfast. The guests searched every- 
where, from top to bottom of the spacious palace, and all to no 
purpose. But, after a great deal of perplexity, they espied, in 
front of the portal, two venerable trees, which nobody could 
remember to have seen there the day before. Yet there they 
stood, with their roots fastened deep into the soil, and a huge 

132 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


breadth of foliage overshadowing the whole front of the edifice. 
One was an oak, and the other a linden-tree. Their boughs — 
it was strange and beautiful to see — were intertwined together, 
and embraced one another, so that each tree seemed to live in the 
other tree’s bosom much more than in its own. 

While the guests were marvelling how these trees, that must 
have required at least a century to grow, could have come to be 
so tall and venerable in a single night, a breeze sprang up, and 
set their intermingled boughs astir. And then there was a deep, 
broad murmur in the air, as if the two mysterious trees were 
speaking. 

“T am old Philemon! ” murmured the oak. 

“T am old Baucis!”” murmured the linden-tree. 

But, as the breeze grew stronger, the trees both spoke at once, 
— “Philemon! Baucis! Baucis! Philemon!” — as if one were 
both and both were one, and talking together in the depths of 
their mutual heart. It was plain enough to perceive that the 
good old couple had renewed their age, and were now to spend 
a quiet and delightful hundred years or so, Philemon as an oak, 
and Baucis as a linden-tree. And oh, what a hospitable shade 
did they fling around them. Whenever a wayfarer paused be- 
neath it, he heard a pleasant whisper of the leaves above his head, 
and wondered how the sound should so much resemble words like 
these: — 

“ Welcome, welcome, dear traveller, welcome!” 

And some kind soul, that knew what would have pleased old 
Baucis and old Philemon best, built a circular seat around both 
their trunks, where, for a great while afterwards, the weary, and 
the hungry, and the thirsty used to repose themselves, and quaff 
milk abundantly out of the miraculous pitcher. 

And I wish, for all our sakes, that we had the pitcher here 
now! 


133 


The Hill-Side 


After the Story 


a OW much did the pitcher hold?” asked Sweet Fern. 
H “It did not hold quite a quart,” answered the stu- 
dent; “but you might keep pouring milk out of it, 
till you should fill a hogshead, if you pleased. The truth is, it 
would run on forever, and not be dry even at midsummer, — 
which is more than can be said of yonder rill, that goes babbling 
down the hill-side.” 

“And what has become of the pitcher now?” inquired the 
little boy. 

“It was broken, I am sorry to say, about twenty-five thou- 
sand years ago,” replied Cousin Eustace. “The people mended 
it as well as they could, but, though it- would hold milk pretty 
well, it was never afterwards known to fill itself of its own ac- 
cord. So, you see, it was no better than any other cracked 
earthen pitcher.” 

“What a pity!” cried all the children at once. 

The respectable dog Ben had accompanied the party, as did 
likewise a half-grown Newfoundland puppy, who went by the 
name of Bruin, because he was just as black as a bear. Ben, 
being elderly, and of very circumspect habits, was respectfully 
requested, by Cousin Eustace, to stay behind with the four little 
children, in order to keep them out of mischief. As for black 
Bruin, who was himself nothing but a child, the student thought 
it best to take him along, lest, in his rude play with the other 

134 


THE HILL-SIDE 


children, he should trip them up, and send them rolling and 
tumbling down the hill. Advising Cowslip, Sweet Fern, Dan- 
delion, and Squash-Blossom to sit pretty still, in the spot where 
he left them, the student, with Primrose and the elder children, 
began to ascend, and were soon out of sight among the trees. 


135 


THE CHIMARA 
Bald-Summit 


Introductory to “ The Chimera” 


PWARD, along the steep and wooded hill-side, went 
| Eustace Bright and his companions. The trees were 
not yet in full leaf, but had budded forth sufficiently 
to throw an airy shadow, while the sunshine filled them with green 
light. There were moss-grown rocks, half hidden among the old, 
brown, fallen leaves; there were rotten tree-trunks, lying at full 
length where they had long ago fallen; there were decayed 
boughs, that had been shaken down by the wintry gales, and 
were scattered everywhere about. But still, though these things 
looked so aged, the aspect of the wood was that of the newest 
life; for, whichever way you turned your eyes, something fresh 
and green was springing forth, so as to be ready for the summer. 
At last, the young people reached the upper verge of the 
wood, and found themselves almost at the summit of the hill. 
It was not a peak, nor a great round ball, but a pretty wide 
plain, or table-land, with a house and barn upon it, at some dis- 
tance. That house was the home of a solitary family; and often- 
times the clouds, whence fell the rain, and whence the snow- 
storm drifted down into the valley, hung lower than this bleak 
and lonely dwelling-place. 

On the highest point of the hill was a heap of stones, in the 
centre of which was stuck a long pole, with a little flag flutter- 
ing at the end of it. Eustace led the children thither, and bade 

186 


BALD-SUMMIT 


them look around, and see how large a tract of our beautiful 
world they could take in at a glance. And their eyes grew wider 
as they looked. 

Monument Mountain, to the southward, was still in the centre 
of the scene, but seemed to have sunk and subsided, so that it 
was now but an undistinguished member of a large family of 
hills. Beyond it, the Taconic range looked higher and bulkier 
than before. Our pretty lake was seen, with all its little bays 
and inlets; and not that alone, but two or three new lakes were 
opening their blue eyes to the sun. Several white villages, each 
with its steeple, were scattered about in the distance. There 
were so many farm-houses, with their acres of woodland, pasture, 
mowing-fields, and tillage, that the children could hardly make 
room in their minds to receive all these different objects. There, 
too, was ‘Tanglewood, which they had hitherto thought such an 
important apex of the world. It now occupied so small a space, 
that they gazed far beyond it, and on either side, and searched 
a good while with all their eyes, before discovering whereabout 
it stood. 

White, fleecy clouds were hanging in the air, and threw the 
dark spots of their shadow here and there over the landscape. 
But, by and by, the sunshine was where the shadow had been, 
and the shadow was somewhere else. 

Far to the westward was a range of blue mountains, which 
Eustace Bright told the children were the Catskills. Among 
those misty hills, he said, was a spot where some old Dutchmen 
were playing an everlasting game of ninepins, and where an idle 
fellow, whose name was Rip Van Winkle, had fallen asleep, and 
slept twenty years at a stretch. The children eagerly besought 
Eustace to tell them all about this wonderful affair. But the 
student replied that the story had been told once already, and 
better than it ever could be told again; and that nobody would 
have a right to alter a word of it, until it should have grown as 

137 


THE CHIMZ RA 


old as “ The Gorgon’s Head,” and ‘“‘ The Three Golden Apples,” 
and the rest of those miraculous legends. 

“ At least,” said Periwinkle, “ while we rest ourselves here, 
and are looking about us, you can tell us another of your own 
stories.” 

“Yes, Cousin Eustace,” cried Primrose, “I advise you to tell 
us a story here. Take some lofty subject or other, and see if 
your imagination will not come up to it. Perhaps the mountain 
air may make you poetical, for once. And no matter how strange 
and wonderful the story may be, now that we are up among the 
clouds, we can believe anything.” 

“Can you believe,” asked Eustace, “that there was once a 
winged horse?” 

“Yes,” said saucy Primrose; “ but I am afraid you will never 
be able to catch him.” 

“ For that matter, Primrose,” rejcined the student, “ I might 
possibly catch Pegasus, and get upon his back, too, as well as a 
dozen other fellows that I know of. At any rate, here is a story 
about him; and, of all places in the world, it ought certainly to 
be told upon a mountain-top.” 

So, sitting on. the pile of stones, while the children clustered 
themselves at its base, Kustace fixed his eyes on a white cloud 
that was sailing by, and began as follows. 


138 


The Chimera 


NCE, in the old, old times (for all the strange thing's 
() which I tell you about happened long before anybody 
can remember), a fountain gushed out of a hill-side, in 
the marvellous land of Greece. And, for aught I know, after 
so many thousand years, it is still gushing out of the very self- 
same spot. At any rate, there was the pleasant fountain, well- 
ing freshly forth and sparkling adown the hill-side, in the golden 
sunset, when a handsome young man named Bellerophon drew 
near its margin. In his hand he held a bridle, studded with bril- 
liant gems, and adorned with a golden bit. Seeing an old man, 
and another of middle age, and a little boy, near the fountain, 
and likewise a maiden, who was dipping up some of the water 
in a pitcher, he paused, and begged that he might refresh himself 
with a draught. 

“ This is very delicious water,” he said to the maiden as he 
rinsed and filled her pitcher, after drinking out of it. “Will 
you be kind enough to tell me whether the fountain has any 
name?” 

“Yes; it is called the Fountain of Pirene,” answered the 
maiden; and then she added, “ My grandmother has told me that 
this clear fountain was once a beautiful woman; and when her 
son was killed by the arrows of the huntress Diana, she melted 
all away into tears. And so the water, which you find so cool 
and sweet, is the sorrow of that poor mother’s heart! ” 

“I should not have dreamed,” observed the young stranger, 
“that so clear a well-spring, with its gush and gurgle, and its 
cheery dance out of the shade into the sunlight, had so much as 

139 


THE CHIMARA 


one tear-drop in its bosom! And this, then, is Pirene? I thank 
you, pretty maiden, for telling me its name. I have come from 
a far-away country to find this very spot.” 

A middle-aged country fellow (he had driven his cow to drink 
out of the spring) stared hard at young Bellerophon, and at the 
handsome bridle which he carried in his hand. 

“'The water-courses must be getting low, friend, in your part 
of the world,” remarked he, “if you come so far only to find the 
Fountain of Pirene. But, pray, have you lost a horse? I see 
you carry the bridle in your hand; and a very pretty one it is 
with that double row of bright stones upon it. If the horse was 
as fine as the bridle, you are much to be pitied for losing him.” 

“T have lost no horse,” said Bellerophon, with a smile. “ But 
I happen to be seeking a very famous one, which, as wise people 
have informed me, must be found hereabouts, if anywhere. Do 
you know whether the winged horse Pegasus still haunts the 
Fountain of Pirene, as he used to do in your forefathers’ days? ” 

But then the country fellow laughed. 

Some of you, my little friends, have probably heard that this 
Pegasus was a snow-white steed, with beautiful silvery wings, 
who spent most of his time on the summit of Mount Helicon. 
He was as wild, and as swift, and as buoyant, in his flight through 
the air, as any eagle that ever soared into the clouds. ‘There was 
nothing else like him in the world. He had no mate; he never 
had been backed or bridled by a master; and, for many a long 
year, he led a solitary and a happy life. 

Oh, how fine a thing it is to be a winged horse! Sleeping 
at night, as he did, on a lofty mountain-top, and passing the 
greater part of the day in the air, Pegasus seemed hardly to be 
a creature of the earth. Whenever he was seen, up very high 
above people’s heads, with the sunshine on his silvery wings, you 
would have thought that he belonged to the sky, and that, skim- 
ming a little too low, he had got astray among our mists and 

140 


THE CHIMARA 


vapors, and was seeking his way back again. It was very pretty 
to behold him plunge into the fleecy bosom of a bright cloud, 
and be lost in it, for a moment or two, and then break forth 
from the other side. Or, in a sullen rain-storm, when there was 
a gray pavement of clouds over the whole sky, it would some- 
times happen that the winged horse descended right through it, 
and the glad light of the upper region would gleam after him. 
In another instant, it is true, both Pegasus and the pleasant light 
would be gone away together. But any one that was fortunate 
enough to see this wondrous spectacle felt cheerful the whole 
day afterwards, and as much longer as the storm lasted. 

In the summer-time, and in the beautifullest of weather, 
Pegasus often alighted on the solid earth, and, closing his silvery 
wings, would gallop over hill and dale for pastime, as fleetly as 
the wind. Oftener than in any other place, he had been seen near 
the Fountain of Pirene, drinking the delicious water, or rolling 
himself upon the soft grass of the margin. Sometimes, too (but 
Pegasus was very dainty in his food), he would crop a few of 
the clover-blossoms that happened to be sweetest. 

To the Fountain of Pirene, therefore, people’s great-grand- 
fathers had been in the habit of going (as long as they were 
youthful, and retained their faith in winged horses), in hopes of 
getting a glimpse at the beautiful Pegasus. But, of late years, 
he had been very seldom seen. Indeed, there were many of the 
country folks, dwelling within half an hour’s walk of the foun- 
tain, who had never beheld Pegasus, and did not believe that 
there was any such creature in existence. The country fellow 
to whom Bellerophon was speaking chanced to be one of those 
incredulous persons. 

And that was the reason why he laughed. 

“Pegasus, indeed!” cried he, turning up his nose as high as 
such a flat nose could be turned up, — “ Pegasus, indeed! A 
winged horse, truly!) Why, friend, are you in your senses? Of 

141 


THE CHIMAZRA 


what use would wings be to a horse? Could he drag the plough 
so well, think you? To be sure, there might be a little saving 
in the expense of shoes; but then, how would a man like to see 
his horse flying out of the stable window? — yes, or whisking 
him up above the clouds, when he only wanted to ride to mill? 
No, no! I don’t believe in Pegasus. There never was such a 
ridiculous kind of a horse-fowl made! ” 

““T have some reason to think otherwise,’ 
quietly. 

And then he turned to an old, gray man, who was leaning 
on a staff, and listening very attentively, with his head stretched 
forward, and one hand at his ear, because, for the last twenty 
years, he had been getting rather deaf. 

‘“‘ And what say you, venerable sir?” inquired he. “In your 
younger days, I should imagine, you must frequently have seen 
the winged steed!” 

“Ah, young stranger, my memory is very poor!” said the 
aged man. ‘“ When I was a lad, if I remember rightly, I used 
to believe there was such a horse, and so did everybody else. But, 
nowadays, I hardly know what to think, and very seldom think 
about the winged horse at all. If I ever saw the creature, it was 
a long, long while ago; and, to tell you the truth, I doubt whether 
I ever did see him. One day, to be sure, when I was quite a 
youth, I remember seeing some hoof-tramps round about the 
brink of the fountain. Pegasus might have made those hoof- 
marks; and so might some other horse.” 

“And have you never seen him, my fair maiden?” asked 
Bellerophon of the girl, who stood with the pitcher on her head, 
while this talk went on. “ You certainly could see Pegasus, if 
anybody can, for your eyes are very bright.” 

“Once I thought I saw him,” replied the maiden, with a 
smile and a blush. ‘It was either Pegasus, or a large white 
bird, a very great way up in the air. And one other time, as I 

142 


> 


said Bellerophon, 


THE CHIMARA 


was coming to the fountain with my pitcher, I heard a neigh. Oh, 
such a brisk and melodious neigh as that was! My very heart 
leaped with delight at the sound. But it startled me, neverthe- 
less; so that I ran home without filling my pitcher.” 

“That was truly a pity!” said Bellerophon. 

And he turned to the child, whom I mentioned at the begin- 
ning of the story, and who was gazing at him, as children are apt 
to gaze at strangers, with his rosy mouth wide open. 

“Well, my little fellow,” cried Bellerophon, playfully pull- 
ing one of his curls, “‘ I suppose you have often seen the winged 
horse.” 

“That I have,” answered the child, very readily. “I saw him 
yesterday, and many times before.” 

“You are a fine little man!” said Bellerophon, drawing the 
child closer to him. ‘‘ Come, tell me all about it.” 

“Why,” replied the child, “I often come here to sail little 
boats in the fountain, and to gather pretty pebbles out of its 
basin. And sometimes, when I look down into the water, I see 
the image of the winged horse, in the picture of the sky that is 
there. I wish he would come down, and take me on his back, 
and let me ride him up to the moon! But, if I so much as stir 
to look at him, he flies far away out of sight.” 

And Bellerophon put his faith in the child, who had seen the 
image of Pegasus in the water, and in the maiden, who had heard 
him neigh so melodiously, rather than in the middle-aged clown, 
who believed only in cart-horses, or in the old man who had for- 
gotten the beautiful things of his youth. 

Therefore, he haunted about the Fountain of Pirene for a 
great many days afterwards. He kept continually on the watch, 
looking upward at the sky, or else down into the water, hoping 
forever that he should see either the reflected image of the winged 
horse, or the marvellous reality. He held the bridle, with its 
bright gems and golden bit, always ready in his hand. The 

143 


THE CHIMARA 


rustic people, who dwelt in the neighborhood, and drove their 
cattle to the fountain to drink, would often laugh at poor Bel- 
lerophon, and sometimes take him pretty severely to task. They 
told him that an able-bodied young man, like himself, ought to 
have better business than to be wasting his time in such an idle 
pursuit. They offered to sell him a horse, if he wanted one; and 
when Bellerophon declined the purchase, they tried to drive a 
bargain with him for his fine bridle. 

Even the country boys thought him so very foolish, that they 
used to have a great deal of sport about him, and were rude 
enough not to care a fig, although Bellerophon saw and heard 
it. One little urchin, for example, would play Pegasus, and cut 
the oddest imaginable capers, by way of flying; while one of his 
schoolfellows would scamper after him, holding forth a twist of 
bulrushes, which was intended to represent Bellerophon’s orna- 
mental bridle. But the gentle child, who had seen the picture 
of Pegasus in the water, comforted the young stranger more 
than all the naughty boys could torment him. The dear little 
fellow, in his play-hours, often sat down beside him, and, without 
speaking a word, would look down into the fountain and up 
towards the sky, with so innocent a faith, that Bellerophon could 
not help feeling encouraged. 

Now you will, perhaps, wish to be told why it was that Bel- 
lerophon had undertaken to catch the winged horse. And we 
shall find no better opportunity to speak about this matter than 
while he is waiting for Pegasus to appear. 

If I were to relate the whole of Bellerophon’s previous ad- 
ventures, they might easily grow into a very long story. It will 
be quite enough to say, that, in a certain country of Asia, a ter- 
rible monster, called a Chimera, had made its appearance, and 
was doing more mischief than could be talked about between now 
and sunset. According to the best accounts which I have been 
able to obtain, this Chimera was nearly, if not quite, the ugliest 

144 














THE CHIMARA 


and most poisonous creature, and the strangest and unaccount- 
ablest, and the hardest to fight with, and the most difficult to 
run away from, that ever came out of the earth’s inside. It had 
a tail like a boa-constrictor; its body was like I do not care what; 
and it had three separate heads, one of which was a lion’s, the 
second a goat’s, and the third an abominably great snake’s. And 
a hot blast of fire came flaming out of each of its three mouths! 
Being an earthly monster, I doubt whether it had any wings; 
but, wings or no, it ran like a goat and a lion, and wriggled along 
like a serpent, and thus contrived to make about as much speed 
as all the three together. 

Oh, the mischief, and mischief, and mischief that this naughty 
creature did! With its flaming breath, it could set a forest on 
fire, or burn up a field of grain, or, for that matter, a village, with 
all its fences and houses. It laid waste the whole country round 
about, and used to eat up people and animals alive, and cook 
them afterwards in the burning oven of its stomach. Mercy on 
us, little children, I hope neither you nor I will ever happen to 
meet a Chimera! 

While the hateful beast (if a beast we can anywise call it) 
was doing all these horrible things, it so chanced that Bellerophon 
came to that part of the world, on a visit to the king. The king’s 
name was Iobates, and Lycia was the country which he ruled 
over. Bellerophon was one of the bravest youths in the world, 
and desired nothing so much as to do some valiant and beneficent 
deed, such as would make all mankind admire and love him. In 
those days, the only way for a young man to distinguish himself 
was by fighting battles, either with the enemies of his country, 
or with wicked giants, or with troublesome dragons, or with wild 
beasts, when he could find nothing more dangerous to encounter. 
King Iobates, perceiving the courage of his youthful visitor, pro- 
posed to him to go and fight the Chimera, which everybody else 
was afraid of, and which, unless it should be soon killed, was 

10 145 


THE CHIM#RA 


likely to convert Lycia into a desert. Bellerophon hesitated not 
a moment, but assured the king that he would either slay this 
dreaded Chimera, or perish in the attempt. 

But, in the first place, as the monster was so prodigiously 
swift, he bethought himself that he should never win the victory 
by fighting on foot. The wisest thing he could do, therefore, was 
to get the very best and fleetest horse that could anywhere be 
found. And what other horse, in all the world, was half so fleet 
as the marvellous horse Pegasus, who had wings as well as legs, 
and was even more active in the air than on the earth? To be 
sure, a great many people denied that there was any such horse 
with wings, and said that the stories about him were all poetry 
and nonsense. But, wonderful as it appeared, Bellerophon be- 
lieved that Pegasus was a real steed, and hoped that he himself 
might be fortunate enough to find him; and, once fairly mounted 
on his back, he would be able to fight the Chimera at better 
advantage. 

And this was the purpose with which he had travelled from 
Lycia to Greece, and had brought the beautifully ornamented 
bridle in his hand. It was an enchanted bridle. If he could 
only succeed in putting the golden bit into the mouth of Pegasus, 
the winged horse would be submissive, and would own Bellero- 
phon for his master, and fly whithersoever he might choose to 
turn the rein. 

But, indeed, it was a weary and anxious time, while Bellero- 
phon waited and waited for Pegasus, in hopes that he would come 
and drink at the Fountain of Pirene. He was afraid lest King 
Iobates should imagine that he had fled from the Chimera. It 
pained him, too, to think how much mischief the monster was 
doing, while he himself, instead of fighting with it, was compelled 
to sit idly poring over the bright waters of Pirene, as they gushed 
out of the sparkling sand. And as Pegasus came thither so 
seldom in these latter years, and scarcely alighted there more than 

146 


THE CHIMZRA 


once in a lifetime, Bellerophon feared that he might grow an old 
man, and have no strength left in his arms nor courage in his 
heart, before the winged horse would appear. Oh, how heavily 
passes the time, while an adventurous youth is yearning to do his 
part in life, and to gather in the harvest of his renown! How 
hard a lesson it is to wait! Our life is brief, and how much of 
it is spent in teaching us only this! 

Well was it for Bellerophon that the gentle child had grown 
so fond of him, and was never weary of keeping him company. 
Every morning the child gave him a new hope to put in his bosom, 
instead of yesterday’s withered one. 

“Dear Bellerophon,” he would cry, looking up hopefully into 
his face, “I think we shall see Pegasus to-day!” 

And, at length, if it had not been for the little boy’s un- 
wavering faith, Bellerophon would have given up all hope, and 
would have gone back to Lycia, and have done his best to slay 
the Chimera without the help of the winged horse. And in that 
case poor Bellerophon would at least have been terribly scorched 
by the creature’s breath, and would most probably have been 
killed and devoured. Nobody should ever try to fight an earth- 
born Chimera, unless he can first get upon the back of an aerial 
steed. 

One morning the child spoke to Bellerophon even more hope- 
fully than usual. 

“Dear, dear Bellerophon,” cried he, “I know not why it is, 
but I feel as if we should certainly see Pegasus to-day! ” 

And all that day he would not stir a step from Bellerophon’s 
side; so they ate a crust of bread together, and drank some of 
the water of the fountain. In the afternon, there they sat, and 
Bellerophon had thrown his arm around the child, who likewise 
had put one of his little hands into Bellerophon’s. The latter 
was lost in his own thoughts, and was fixing his eyes vacantly 
on the trunks of the trees that overshadowed the fountain, and 

147 


THE CHIMARA 


on the grapevines that clambered up among their branches. But 
the gentle child was gazing down into the water; he was grieved, 
for Bellerophon’s sake, that the hope of another day should be 
deceived, like so many before it; and two or three quiet tear- 
drops fell from his eyes, and mingled with what were said to be 
the many tears of Pirene, when she wept for her slain children. 

But, when he least thought of it, Bellerophon felt the pres- 
sure of the child’s little hand, and heard a soft, almost breathless, 
whisper. 

“See there, dear Bellerophon! There is an image in the 
water!” 

The young man looked down into the dimpling mirror of 
the fountain, and saw what he took to be the reflection of a bird 
which seemed to be flying at a great height in the air, with a 
gleam of sunshine on its snowy or silvery wings. 

“What a splendid bird it must be!” said he. “ And how 
very large it looks, though it must really be flying higher than 
the clouds! ” 

“It makes me tremble!” whispered the child. “I am afraid 
to look up into the air! It is very beautiful, and yet I dare only 
look at its image in the water. Dear Bellerophon, do you not 
see that it is no bird? It is the winged horse Pegasus!” 

Bellerophon’s heart began to throb! He gazed keenly up- 
ward, but could not see the winged creature, whether bird or 
horse; because, just then, it had plunged into the fleecy depths 
of a summer cloud. It was but a moment, however, before the 
object reappeared, sinking lightly down out of the cloud, although 
still at a vast distance from the earth. Bellerophon caught the 
child in his arms, and shrank back with him, so that they were 
both hidden among the thick shrubbery which grew all around 
the fountain. Not that he was afraid of any harm, but he dreaded 
lest, if Pegasus caught a glimpse of them, he would fly far away, 
and alight in some inaccessible mountain-top. For it was really 

148 


THE CHIMARA 


the winged horse. After they had expected him so long, he was 
coming to quench his thirst with the water of Pirene. 

Nearer and nearer came the aerial wonder, flying in great 
circles, as you may have seen a dove when about to alight. Down- 
ward came Pegasus, in those wide, sweeping circles, which grew 
narrower, and narrower still, as he gradually approached the 
earth. The nigher the view of him, the more beautiful he was, 
and the more marvellous the sweep of his silvery wings. At last, 
with so light a pressure as hardly to bend the grass about the 
fountain, or imprint a hoof-tramp in the sand of its margin, he 
alighted, and, stooping his wild head, began to drink. He drew 
in the water, with long and pleasant sighs, and tranquil pauses 
of enjoyment; and then another draught, and another, and an- 
other. For, nowhere in the world, or up among the clouds, did 
Pegasus love any water as he loved this of Pirene. And when 
his thirst was slaked, he cropped a few of the honey-blossoms of 
the clover, delicately tasting them, but not caring to make a 
hearty meal, because the herbage, just beneath the clouds, on 
the lofty sides of Mount Helicon, suited his palate better than 
this ordinary grass. 

After thus drinking to his heart’s content, and in his dainty 
fashion, condescending to take a little food, the winged horse 
began to caper to and fro, and dance as it were, out of mere idle- 
ness and sport. There never was a more playful creature made 
than this very Pegasus. So there he frisked, in a way that it 
delights me to think about, fluttering his great wings as lightly 
as ever did a linnet, and running little races, half on earth and 
half in air, and which I know not whether to call a flight or a 
gallop. When a creature is perfectly able to fly, he sometimes 
chooses to run, just for the pastime of the thing; and so did 
Pegasus, although it cost him some little trouble to keep his 
hoofs so near the ground. Bellerophon, meanwhile, holding the 
child’s hand, peeped forth from the shrubbery, and thought that 

149 


THE CHIMZRA 


never was any sight so beautiful as this, nor ever a horse’s eyes 
so wild and spirited as those of Pegasus. It seemed a sin to 
think of bridling him and riding on his back. 

Once or twice, Pegasus stopped, and snuffed the air, pricking 
up his ears, tossing his head, and turning it on all sides, as if he 
partly suspected some mischief or other. Seeing nothing, how- 
ever, and hearing no sound, he soon began his antics again. 

At length, — not that he was weary, but only idle and luxu- 
rious, — Pegasus folded his wings, and lay down on the soft 
green turf. But, being too full of aerial life to remain quiet 
for many moments together, he soon rolled over on his back, with 
his four slender legs in the air. It was beautiful to see him, this 
one solitary creature, whose mate had never been created, but who 
needed no companion, and, living a great many hundred years, 
was as happy as the centuries were long. The more he did such 
things as mortal horses are accustomed to do, the less earthly and 
the more wonderful he seemed. Bellerophon and the child almost 
held their breath, partly from a delightful awe, but still more 
because they dreaded lest the slightest stir or murmur should 
send him up, with the speed of an arrow-flight, into the farthest 
blue of the sky. 

Finally, when he had had enough of rolling over and over, 
Pegasus turned himself about, and, indolently, like any other 
horse, put out his fore legs, in order to rise from the ground; 
and Bellerophon, who had guessed that he would do so, darted 
suddenly from the thicket, and leaped astride of his back. 

Yes, there he sat, on the back of the winged horse! 

But what a bound did Pegasus make, when, for the first time, 
he felt the weight of a mortal man upon his loins! A bound, 
indeed! Before he had time to draw a breath, Bellerophon found 
himself five hundred feet aloft, and still shooting upward, while 
the winged horse snorted and trembled with terror and anger. 
Upward he went, up, up, up, until he plunged into the cold misty 

150 


THE CHIMMRA 


bosom of a cloud, at which, only a little while before, Bellero- 
phon had been gazing, and fancying it a very pleasant spot. 
Then again, out of the heart of the cloud, Pegasus shot down 
like a thunderbolt, as if he meant to dash both himself and his 
rider headlong against a rock. Then he went through about a 
thousand of the wildest caprioles that had ever been performed 
either by a bird or a horse. 

I cannot tell you half that he did. He skimmed straight 
forward, and sideways, and backward. He reared himself erect, 
with his fore legs on a wreath of mist, and his hind legs on noth- 
ing at all. He flung out his heels behind, and put down his 
head between his legs, with his wings pointing right upward. At 
about two miles’ height above the earth, he turned a somerset, 
so that Bellerophon’s heels were where his head should have been, 
and he seemed to look down into the sky, instead of up. He 
twisted his head about, and, looking Bellerophon in the face, 
with fire flashing from his eyes, made a terrible attempt to bite 
him. He fluttered his pinions so wildly that one of the silver 
feathers was shaken out, and floating earthward, was picked up 
by the child, who kept it as long as he lived, in memory of 
Pegasus and Bellerophon. 

But the latter (who, as you may judge, was as good a horse- 
man as ever galloped) had been watching his opportunity, and 
at last clapped the golden bit of the enchanted bridle between 
the winged steed’s jaws. No sooner was this done, than Pegasus 
became as manageable as if he had taken food, all his life, out 
of Bellerophon’s hand. To speak what I really feel, it was almost 
a sadness to see so wild a creature grow suddenly so tame. And 
Pegasus seemed to feel it so, likewise. He looked round to Bel- 
lerophon, with the tears in his beautiful eyes, instead of the fire 
that so recently flashed from them. But when Bellerophon patted 
his head, and spoke a few authoritative, yet kind and soothing 
words, another look came into the eyes of Pegasus; for he was 

151 


THE CHIMZRA 


glad at heart, after so many lonely centuries, to have found a 
companion and a master. 

Thus it always is with winged horses, and with all such wild 
and solitary creatures. If you can catch and overcome them, 
it is the surest way to win their love. 

While Pegasus had been doing his utmost to shake Bellero- 
phon off his back, he had flown a very long distance; and they 
had come within sight of a lofty mountain by the time the bit 
was in his mouth. Bellerophon had seen this mountain before, 
and knew it to be Helicon, on the summit of which was the 
winged horse’s abode. Thither (after looking gently into his 
rider’s face, as if to ask leave) Pegasus now flew, and, alighting, 
waited patiently until Bellerophon should please to dismount. 
The young man, accordingly, leaped from his steed’s back, but still 
held him fast by the bridle. Meeting his eyes, however, he was 
so affected by the gentleness of his aspect, and by the thought 
of the free life which Pegasus had heretofore lived, that he could 
not bear to keep him a prisoner, if he really desired his liberty. 

Obeying this generous impulse he slipped the enchanted bridle 
off the head of Pegasus, and took the bit from his mouth. 

“Leave me, Pegasus!” said he. “ Hither leave me, or 
love me.” 

In an instant, the winged horse shot almost out of sight, soar- 
ing straight upward from the summit of Mount Helicon. Being 
long after sunset, it was now twilight on the mountain-top, and 
dusky evening over all the country round about. But Pegasus 
flew so high that he overtook the departed day, and was bathed 
in the upper radiance of the sun. Ascending higher and higher, 
he looked like a bright speck, and, at last, could no longer be 
seen in the hollow waste of the sky. And Bellerophon was afraid 
that he should never behold him more. But, while he was lament- 
ing his own folly, the bright speck reappeared, and drew nearer 
and nearer, until it descended lower than the sunshine; and, be- 

152 


THE CHIMARA 


hold, Pegasus had come back! After this trial there was no more 
fear of the winged horse’s making his escape. He and Bellero- 
phon were friends, and put loving faith in one another. 

That night they lay down and slept together, with Bellero- 
phon’s arm about the neck of Pegasus, not as a caution, but for 
kindness. And they awoke at peep of day, and bade one another 
good morning, each in his own language. 

In this manner, Bellerophon and the wondrous steed spent 
several days, and grew better acquainted and fonder of each other 
all the time. They went on long aerial journeys, and sometimes 
ascended so high that the earth looked hardly bigger than — the 
moon. ‘They visited distant countries, and amazed the inhabit- 
ants, who thought that the beautiful young man, on the back of 
the winged horse, must have come down out of the sky. A 
thousand miles a day was no more than an easy space for the 
fleet Pegasus to pass over. Bellerophon was delighted with this 
kind of life, and would have liked nothing better than to live 
always in the same way, aloft in the clear atmosphere; for it 
was always sunny weather up there, however cheerless and rainy 
it might be in the lower region. But he could not forget the 
horrible Chimera, which he had promised King Iobates to slay. 
So, at last, when he had become well accustomed to feats of 
horsemanship in the air, and could manage Pegasus with the 
least motion of his hand, and had taught him to obey his voice, 
he determined to attempt the performance of this perilous 
adventure. 

At daybreak, therefore, as soon as he unclosed his eyes, he 
gently pinched the winged horse’s ear, in order to arouse him. 
Pegasus immediately started from the ground, and pranced about 
a quarter of a mile aloft, and made a grand sweep around the 
mountain-top, by way of showing that he was wide awake, and 
ready for any kind of an excursion. During the whole of this 
little flight, he uttered a loud, brisk, and melodious neigh, and 

: 153 


THE CHIMA#RA 


finally came down at Bellerophon’s side, as lightly as ever you 
saw a sparrow hop upon a twig. 

“Well done, dear Pegasus! well done, my sky-skimmer!” 
cried Bellerophon, fondly stroking the horse’s neck. “ And now, 
my fleet and beautiful friend, we must break our fast. To-day 
we are to fight the terrible Chimera.” 

As soon as they had eaten their morning meal, and drank 
some sparkling water from a spring called Hippocrene, Pegasus 
held out his head, of his own accord, so that his master might 
put on the bridle. Then, with a great many playful leaps and 
airy caperings, he showed his impatience to be gone; while Bel- 
lerophon was girding on his sword, and hanging his shield about 
his neck, and preparing himself for battle. When everything was 
ready, the rider mounted, and (as was his custom, when going 
a long distance) ascended five miles perpendicularly, so as the 
better to see whither he was directing his course. He then turned 
the head of Pegasus towards the east, and set out for Lycia. 
In their flight they overtook an eagle, and came so nigh him, 
before he could get out of their way, that Bellerophon might 
easily have caught him by the leg. Hastening onward at this 
rate, it was still early in the forenoon when they beheld the lofty 
mountains of Lycia, with their deep and shaggy valleys. If 
Bellerophon had been told truly, it was in one of those dismal 
valleys that the hideous Chimera had taken up its abode. 

Being now so near their journey’s end, the winged horse 
gradually descended with his rider; and they took advantage of 
some clouds that were floating over the mountain-tops, in order 
to conceal themselves. Hovering on the upper surface of a cloud, 
and peeping over its edge, Bellerophon had a pretty distinct 
view of the mountainous part of Lycia, and could look into all 
its shadowy vales at once. At first there appeared to be nothing 
remarkable. It was a wild, savage, and rocky tract of high and 
precipitous hills. In the more level part of the country, there 

154 


THE CHIMZHRA 


were the ruins of houses that had been burnt, and, here and there, 
the carcasses of dead cattle, strewn about the pastures where 
they had been feeding. 

“ The Chimera must have done this mischief,” thought Bel- 
lerophon. “ But where can the monster be?” 

As I have already said, there was nothing remarkable to be 
detected, at first sight, in any of the valleys and dells that lay 
among the precipitous heights of the mountains. Nothing at 
all; unless, indeed it were three spires of black smoke, which 
issued from what seemed to be the mouth of a cavern, and 
clambered sullenly into the atmosphere. Before reaching the 
mountain-top, these three black smoke-wreaths mingled them- 
selves into one. ‘The cavern was almost directly beneath the 
winged horse and his rider, at the distance of about a thousand 
feet. ‘The smoke, as it crept heavily upward, had an ugly, sul- 
phurous, stifling scent, which caused Pegasus to snort and Bel- 
lerophon to sneeze. So disagreeable was it to the marvellous 
steed (who was accustomed to breathe only the purest air), that 
he waved his wings, and shot half a mile out of the range of this 
offensive vapor. 

But, on looking behind him, Bellerophon saw something that 
induced him first to draw the bridle, and then to turn Pegasus 
about. He made a sign, which the winged horse understood, 
and sunk slowly through the air, until his hoofs were scarcely 
more than a man’s height above the rocky bottom of the valley. 
In front, as far off as you could throw a stone, was the cavern’s 
mouth, with the three smoke-wreaths oozing out of it. And 
what else did Bellerophon behold there? 

There seemed to be a heap of strange and terrible creatures 
curled up within the cavern. Their bodies lay so close together, 
that Bellerophon could not distinguish them apart; but, judging 
by their heads, one of these creatures was a huge snake, the 
second a fierce lion, and the third an ugly goat. The lion and 

155 


THE CHIMARA 


the goat were asleep; the snake was broad awake, and kept star- 
ing around him with a great pair of fiery eyes. But — and this 
was the most wonderful part of the matter — the three spires 
of smoke evidently issued from the nostrils of these three heads! 
So strange was the spectacle, that, though Bellerophon had been 
all along expecting it, the truth did not immediately occur to 
him, that here was the terrible three-headed Chimera. He had 
found out the Chimera’s cavern. The snake, the lion, and the 
goat, as he supposed them to be, were not three separate crea- 
tures, but one monster! 

The wicked, hateful thing! Slumbering as two thirds of it 
were, it still held, in its abominable claws, the remnant of an 
unfortunate lamb, — or possibly (but I hate to think so) it was 
a dear little boy, — which its three mouths had been gnawing, 
before two of them fell asleep! 

All at once, Bellerophon started as from a dream, and knew 
it to be the Chimera. Pegasus seemed to know it, at the same 
instant, and sent forth a neigh, that sounded like the call of a 
trumpet to battle. At this sound the three heads reared them- 
selves erect, and belched out great flashes of flame. Before 
Bellerophon had time to consider what to do next, the monster 
flung itself out of the cavern and sprung straight towards him, 
with its immense claws extended, and its snaky tail twisting itself 
venomously behind. If Pegasus had not been as nimble as a 
bird, both he and his rider would have been overthrown by the 
Chimera’s headlong rush, and thus the battle have been ended 
before it was well begun. But the winged horse was not to be 
caught so. In the twinkling of an eye he was up aloft, half- 
way to the clouds, snorting with anger. He shuddered, too, not 
with affright, but with utter disgust at the loathsomeness of this 
poisonous thing with three heads. 

The Chimera, on the other hand, raised itself up so as to 
stand absolutely on the tip-end of its tail, with its talons pawing 

156 


THE CHIMARA 


fiercely in the air, and its three heads spluttering fire at Pegasus 
and his rider. My stars, how it roared, and hissed, and bellowed! 
Bellerophon, meanwhile, was fitting his shield on his arm, and 
drawing his sword. 

“Now, my beloved Pegasus,” he whispered in the winged 
horse’s ear, “ thou must help me to slay this insufferable monster; 
or else thou shalt fly back to thy solitary mountain-peak without 
thy friend Bellerophon. Yor either the Chimera dies, or its three 
mouths shall gnaw this head of mine, which has slumbered upon 
thy neck!” 

Pegasus whinnied, and, turning back his head, rubbed his 
nose tenderly against his rider’s cheek. It was his way of telling 
him that, though he had wings and was an immortal horse, yet 
he would perish, if it were possible for immortality to perish, 
rather than leave Bellerophon behind. 

“T thank you, Pegasus,” answered Bellerophon. “ Now, then, 
let us make a dash at the monster!” 

Uttering these words, he shook the bridle; and Pegasus darted 
down aslant, as swift as the flight of an arrow, right towards the 
Chimera’s threefold head, which, all this time, was poking itself 
as high as it could into the air. As he came within arm’s-length, 
Bellerophon made a cut at the monster, but was carried onward 
by his steed, before he could see whether the blow had been suc- 
cessful. Pegasus continued his course, but soon wheeled round, 
at about the same distance from the Chimera as before. Bel- 
lerophon then perceived that he had cut the goat’s head of the 
monster almost off, so that it dangled downward by the skin, and 
seemed quite dead. 

But, to make amends, the snake’s head and the lion’s head 
had taken all the fierceness of the dead one into themselves, and 
spit flame, and hissed, and roared, with a vast deal more fury 
than before. 

“Never mind, my brave Pegasus!” cried Bellerophon. “ With 

157 


THE CHIMARA 


another stroke like that, we will stop either its hissing or its 
roaring.” 

And again he shook the bridle. Dashing aslantwise, as be- 
fore, the winged horse made another arrow-flight towards the 
Chimera, and Bellerophon aimed another downright stroke at 
one of the two remaining heads, as he shot by. But this time, 
neither he nor Pegasus escaped so well as at first. With one 
of its claws, the Chimera had given the young man a deep 
scratch in his shoulder, and had slightly damaged the left wing 
of the flying steed with the other. On his part, Bellerophon 
had mortally wounded ‘the lion’s head of the monster, insomuch 
that it now hung downward, with its fire almost extinguished, 
and sending out gasps of thick black smoke. The snake’s head, 
however (which was the only one now left), was twice as fierce 
and venomous as ever before. It belched forth shoots of fire five 
hundred yards long, and emitted hisses so loud, so harsh, and 
so ear-piercing, that King Iobates heard them, fifty miles off, 
and trembled till the throne shook under him. 

“Well-a-day!” thought the poor king; “the Chimera is 
certainly coming to devour me!” 

Meanwhile Pegasus had again paused in the air, and neighed 
angrily, while sparkles of a pure crystal flame darted out of his 
eyes. How unlike the lurid fire of the Chimera! The aerial 
steed’s spirit was all aroused, and so was that of Bellerophon. 

“ Dost thou bleed, my immortal horse?” cried the young man, 
caring less for his own hurt than for the anguish of this glorious 
creature, that ought never to have tasted pain. ‘“‘ The execrable 
Chimera shall pay for this mischief with his last head!” 

Then he shook the bridle, shouted loudly, and guided Pegasus, 
not aslantwise as before, but straight at the monster’s hideous 
front. So rapid was the onset, that it seemed but a dazzle and 
a flash before Bellerophon was at close gripes with his enemy. 

The Chimera, by this time, after losing its second head, had 

158 


THE CHIMAHRA 


got into a red-hot passion of pain and rampant rage. It so 
flounced about, half on earth and partly in the air, that it was 
impossible to say which element it rested upon. It opened its 
snake-jaws to such an abominable width, that Pegasus might 
almost, I was going to say, have flown right down its throat, 
wings outspread, rider and all! At their approach it shot out 
a tremendous blast of its fiery breath, and enveloped Bellerophon 
and his steed in a perfect atmosphere of flame, singeing the wings 
of Pegasus, scorching off one whole side of the young man’s 
golden ringlets, and making them both far hotter than was com- 
fortable, from head to foot. 

But this was nothing to what followed. 

When the airy rush of the winged horse had brought him 
within the distance of a hundred yards, the Chimera gave a 
spring, and flung its huge, awkward, venomous, and utterly de- 
testable carcass right upon poor Pegasus, clung round him with 
might and main, and tied up its snaky tail into a knot! Up flew 
the aerial steed, higher, higher, higher, above the mountain-peaks, 
above the clouds, and almost out of sight of the solid earth. But 
still the earth-born monster kept its hold, and was borne upward, 
along with the creature of light and air. Bellerophon, mean- 
while, turning about, found himself face to face with the ugly 
grimness of the Chimera’s visage, and could only avoid being 
scorched to death, or bitten right in twain, by holding up his 
shield. Over the upper edge of the shield, he looked sternly 
into the savage eyes of the monster. 

But the Chimera was so mad and wild with pain, that it did 
not guard itself so well as might else have been the case. Per- 
haps, after all, the best way to fight a Chimera is by getting 
as close to it as you can. In its efforts to stick its horrible iron 
claws into its enemy, the creature left its own breast quite ex- 
posed; and perceiving this, Bellerophon thrust his sword up to 
the hilt into its cruel heart. Immediately the snaky tail untied 

159 


THE CHIMARA 


its knot. ‘The monster let go its hold of Pegasus, and fell from 
that vast height, downward; while the fire within its bosom, in- 
stead of being put out, burned fiercer than ever, and quickly 
began to consume the dead carcass. Thus it fell out of the sky, 
all a-flame, and (it being nightfall before it reached the earth) 
was mistaken for a shooting star or a comet. But, at early sun- 
rise, some cottagers were going to their day’s labor, and saw, to 
their astonishment, that several acres of ground were strewn with 
black ashes. In the middle of a field, there was a heap of whit- 
ened bones, a great deal higher than a haystack. Nothing else 
was ever seen of the dreadful Chimera! 

And when Bellerophon had won the victory, he bent forward 
and kissed Pegasus, while the tears stood in his eyes. 

“Back now, my beloved steed!” said he. ‘“ Back to the 
Fountain of Pirene!” 

Pegasus skimmed through the air, quicker than ever he did 
before, and reached the fountain in a very short time. And there 
he found the old man leaning on his staff, and the country fellow 
watering his cow, and the pretty maiden filling her pitcher. 

“ I remember now,” quoth the old man, “I saw this winged 
horse once before, when I was quite a lad. But he was ten times 
handsomer in those days.” 

“ I own a cart-horse, worth three of him!” said the country. 
fellow. “If this pony were mine, the first thing I should do 
would be to clip his wings! ” 

But the poor maiden said nothing, for she had always the 
luck to be afraid at the wrong time. So she ran away, and let 
her pitcher tumble down, and broke it. 

“ Where is the gentle child,” asked Bellerophon, “ who used 
to keep me company, and never lost his faith, and never was 
weary of gazing into the fountain?” 

“Here am I, dear Bellerophon!” said the child, softly. 

For the little boy had spent day after day, on the margin of 

160 


THE CHIMARA 


Pirene, waiting for his friend to come back; but when he per- 
ceived Bellerophon descending through the clouds, mounted on 
the winged horse, he had shrunk back into the shrubbery. He 
was a delicate and tender child, and dreaded lest the old man and 
the country fellow should see the tears gushing from his eyes. 

“Thou hast won the victory,” said he, joyfully, running to 
the knee of Bellerophon, who still sat on the back of Pegasus. 
“TI knew thou wouldst.” 

“Yes, dear child!” replied Bellerophon, alighting from the 
winged horse. “But if thy faith had not helped me, I should 
never have waited for Pegasus, and never have gone up above the 
clouds, and never have conquered the terrible Chimera. Thou, 
my beloved little friend, hast done it all. And now let us give 
Pegasus his liberty.” 

So he slipped off the enchanted bridle from the head of the 
marvellous steed. 

“ Be free, forevermore, my Pegasus!” cried he, with a shade 
of sadness in his tone. “ Be as free as thou art fleet!” 

But Pegasus rested his head on Bellerophon’s shoulder, and 
would not be persuaded to take flight. 

“ Well then,” said Bellerophon, caressing the airy horse, “ thou 
shalt be with me, as long as thou wilt; and we will go together, 
forthwith, and tell King Iobates that the Chimera is destroyed.” 

Then Bellerophon embraced the gentle child, and promised 
to come to him again, and departed. But, in after years, that 
child took higher flights upon the aerial steed than ever did Bel- 
lerophon, and achieved more honorable deeds than his friend’s 
victory over the Chimera. Fr, gentle and tender as he was, 
he grew to be a mighty poet! 


11 161 


Bald-Summit 
After the Story 


as much fervor and animation as if he had really been 

taking a gallop on the winged horse. At the conclu- 
sion, he was gratified to discern, by the glowing countenances 
of his auditors, how greatly they had been interested. All their 
eyes were dancing in their heads, except those of Primrose. In 
her eyes there were positively tears; for she was conscious of 
something in the legend which the rest of them were not yet old 
enough to feel. Child’s story as it was, the student had con- 
trived to breathe through it the ardor, the generous hope, and the 
imaginative enterprise of youth. 

“T forgive you, now, Primrose,” said he, “ for all your ridicule 
of myself and my stories. One tear pays for a great deal of 
laughter.” 

“Well, Mr. Bright,” answered Primrose, wiping her eyes, and 
giving him another of her mischievous smiles, “it certainly does 
elevate your ideas, to get your head above the clouds. I advise 
you never to tell another story, unless it be, as at present, from 
the top of a mountain.” 

“Or from the back of Pegasus,” replied Eustace, laughing. 
“Don’t you think that I succeeded pretty well in catching that 
wonderful pony?” 

“It was so like one of your madcap pranks!” cried Primrose, 
clapping her hands. “TI think I see you now on his back, two 
miles high, and with your head downward! It is well that you 

162 


| pear BRIGHT told the legend of Bellerophon with 


Set OES ae Cee ak eee 


ARR aici i Sasa 














BALD-SUMMIT 


have not really an opportunity of trying your horsemanship on 
any wilder steed than our sober Davy, or Old Hundred.” 

“For my part, I wish I had Pegasus here, at this moment,” 
said the student. “I would mount him forthwith, and gallop 
about the country, within a circumference of a few miles, making 
literary calls on my brother authors. Dr. Dewey would be within 
my reach, at the foot of Taconic. In Stockbridge, yonder, is Mr. 
James, conspicuous to all the world on his mountain-pile of history 
and romance. Longfellow, I believe, is not yet at the Ox-bow, 
else the winged horse would neigh at the sight of him. But, here 
in Lenox, I should find our most truthful novelist, who has made 
the scenery and life of Berkshire all her own. On the hither side 
of Pittsfield sits Herman Melville, shaping out the gigantic con- 
ception of his ‘ White Whale,’ while the gigantic shape of Gray- 
lock looms upon him from his study-window. Another bound of 
my flying steed would bring me to the door of Holmes, whom I 
mention last, because Pegasus would certainly unseat me, the next 
minute, and claim the poet as his rider.” 

“ Have we not an author for our next neighbor? ” asked Prim- 
rose. “That silent man, who lives in the old red house, near 
Tanglewood Avenue, and whom we sometimes meet, with two 
children at his side, in the woods or at the lake. I think I have 
heard of his having written a poem, or a romance, or an arith- 
metic, or a school-history, or some other kind of a book.” 

“Hush, Primrose, hush!” exclaimed Eustace, in a thrilling 
whisper, and putting his finger on his lip. “ Not a word about 
that man, even on a hill-top! If our babble were to reach his ears, 
and happen not to please him, he has but to fling a quire or two of 
paper into the stove, and you, Primrose, and I, and Periwinkle, 
Sweet Fern, Squash-Blossom, Blue Eye, Huckleberry, Clover, 
Cowslip, Plantain, Milkweed, Dandelion, and Buttercup, — yes, 
and wise Mr. Pringle, with his unfavorable criticisms on my le- 
gends, and poor Mrs. Pringle, too, — would all turn to smoke, and 

163 


THE CHIMZRA 


go whisking up the funnel! Our neighbor in the red house is a 
harmless sort of person enough, for aught I know, as concerns the 
rest of the world; but something whispers to me that he has a 
terrible power over ourselves, extending to nothing short of 
annihilation.” 

“ And would Tanglewood turn to smoke, as well as we?” 
asked Periwinkle, quite appalled at the threatened destruction. 
““ And what would become of Ben and Bruin?” 

“Tanglewood would remain,” replied the sadenee “ looking 
just as it does now, but occupied by an entirely different family. 
And Ben and Bruin would be still alive, and would make them- 
selves very comfortable with the bones from the dinner-table, 
without ever thinking of the good times which they and we have 
had together! ” 

“‘ What nonsense you are talking!” exclaimed Primrose. 

With idle chat of this kind, the party had already begun to de- 
scend the hill, and were now within the shadow of the woods. 
Primrose gathered some mountain-laurel, the leaf of which, though 
of last year’s growth, was still as verdant and elastic as if the frost 
and thaw had not alternately tried their force upon its texture. 
Of these twigs of laurel she twined a wreath, and took off the 
student’s cap, in order to place it on his brow. 

“ Nobody else is likely to crown you for your stories,” ob- 
served saucy Primrose, “so take this from me.” 

“Do not be too sure,” answered Eustace, looking really like 
a youthful poet, with the laurel among his glossy curls, “that I 
shall not win other wreaths by these wonderful and admirable 
stories. I mean to spend all my leisure, during the rest of the 
vacation, and throughout the summer term at college, in writing 
them out for the press. Mr. J. T. Fields (with whom I became ac- 
quainted when he was in Berkshire, last summer, and who is a 
poet, as well as a publisher) will see their uncommon merit at a 
glance. He will get them illustrated, I hope, by Billings, and will 

164 


BALD-SUMMIT 


bring them before the world under the very best of auspices, 
through the eminent house of Ticknor & Co. In about five 
months from this moment, I make no doubt of being reckoned 
among the lights of this age!” 

“ Poor boy!” said Primrose, half aside. ‘“ What a disap- 
pointment awaits him!” 

Descending a little lower, Bruin began to bark, and was an- 
swered by the graver bow-wow of the respectable Ben. They soon 
saw the good old dog, keeping careful watch over Dandelion, 
Sweet Fern, Cowslip, and Squash-Blossom. These little people, 
quite recovered from their fatigue, had set about gathering check- 
erberries, and now came clambering to meet their playfellows. 
Thus reunited, the whole party went down through Luther But- 
_ ler’s orchard, and made the best of their way home to Tangle- 
wood, 


165 





Tanglewood Tales, 
For Girls And Boys, 
Being A Second Wonder-Book 





TANGLEWOOD TALES 
The Wayside 


Introductory 


my young friend Eustace Bright, whom I had not before 
met with since quitting the breezy mountains of Berk- 
shire. It being the winter vacation at his college, Eustace was 
allowing himself a little relaxation, in the hope, he told me, of re- 
pairing the inroads which severe application to study had made 
upon his health; and I was happy to conclude, from the excel- 
lent physical condition in which I saw him, that the remedy had 
already been attended with very desirable success. He had now 
run up from Boston by the noon train, partly impelled by the 
friendly regard with which he is pleased to honor me, and partly, 
as I soon found, on a matter of literary business. 
It delighted me to receive Mr. Bright, for the first time, under 
a roof, though a very humble one, which I could really call my 
own. Nor did I fail (as is the custom of landed proprietors all 
about the world) to parade the poor fellow up and down over my 
half a dozen acres; secretly rejoicing, nevertheless, that the dis- 
array of the inclement season, and particularly the six inches of 
snow then upon the ground, prevented him from observing the 
ragged neglect of soil and shubbery into which the place has 
lapsed. It was idle, however, to imagine that an airy guest from 
Monument Mountain, Bald-Summit, and old Graylock, shaggy 
with primeval forests, could see anything to admire in my poor 
169 


: SHORT time ago, I was favored with a flying visit from 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


little hill-side, with its growth of frail and insect-eaten locust- 
trees. Eustace very frankly called the view from my hill-top 
tame; and so, no doubt, it was, after rough, broken, rugged, head- 
long Berkshire, and especially the northern parts of the county, 
with which his college residence had made him familiar. But to 
me there is a peculiar, quiet charm in these broad meadows and 
gentle eminences. They are better than mountains, because they 
do not stamp and stereotype themselves into the brain, and thus 
grow wearisome with the same strong impression, repeated day 
after day. A few summer weeks among mountains, a lifetime 
among green meadows and placid slopes, with outlines forever 
new, because continually fading out of the memory, — such would 
be my sober choice. 

I doubt whether Eustace did not internally pronounce the 
whole thing a bore, until I led him to my predecessor’s little 
ruined, rustic summer-house, midway on the hill-side. It is a 
mere skeleton of slender, decaying tree-trunks, with neither walls 
nor a roof; nothing but a tracery of branches and twigs, which 
the next wintry blast will be very likely to scatter in fragments 
along the terrace. It looks, and is, as evanescent as a dream; and 
yet, in its rustic net-work of boughs, it has somehow enclosed a 
hint of spiritual beauty, and has become a true emblem of the sub- 
tile and ethereal mind that planned it. I made Eustace Bright sit 
down on a snow-bank, which had heaped itself over the mossy 
seat, and gazing through the arched window opposite, he ac- 
knowledged that the scene at once grew picturesque. 

“Simple as it looks,” said he, “this little edifice seems to be 
the work of magic. It is full of suggestiveness, and, in its way, 
is as good as a cathedral. Ah, it would be just the spot for one 
to sit in, of a summer afternoon, and tell the children some more 
of those wild stories from the classic myths! ” 

“Tt would, indeed,” answered I. “ The summer-house itself, 
so airy and so broken, is like one of those old tales, imperfectly 
170 


THE WAYSIDE 


remembered; and these living branches of the Baldwin apple- 
tree, thrusting themselves so rudely in, are like your unwarrant- 
able interpolations. But, by the by, have you added any more 
legends to the series, since the publication of the Wonder Book? ” 

“Many more,” said Eustace; ‘“ Primrose, Periwinkle, and 
the rest of them allow me no comfort of my life, unless I tell 
them a story every day or two. I have run away from home 
partly to escape the importunity of those little wretches! But I 
have written out six of the new stories, and have brought them 
for you to look over.” 

“ Are they as good as the first?” I inquired. 

“ Better chosen, and better handled,” replied Eustace Bright. 
“You will say so when you read them.” 

“ Possibly not,” I remarked. “I know, from my own ex- 
perience, that an author’s last work is always his best one, in his 
own estimate, until it quite loses the red heat of composition. 
After that, it falls into its true place, quietly enough. But let us 
adjourn to my study, and examine these new stories. It would 
hardly be doing yourself justice, were you to bring me acquainted 
with them, sitting here on this snow-bank! ” 

So we descended the hill to my small, old cottage, and shut 
ourselves up in the southeastern room, where the sunshine comes 
in, warmly and brightly, through the better half of a winter’s 
day. Kustace put his bundle of manuscript into my hands; and 
I skimmed through it pretty rapidly, trying to find out its merits 
and demerits by the touch of my fingers, as a veteran story-teller 
ought to know how to do. 

It will be remembered, that Mr. Bright condescended to avail 
himself of my literary experience by constituting me editor of 
the Wonder Book. As he had no reason to complain of the re- 
ception of that erudite work by the public, he was now dis- 
posed to retain me in a similar position, with respect to the present 
volume, which he entitled “ TaANcLEWoop TALEs.” Not, as Eus- 

171 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


tace hinted, that there was any real necessity for my services as 
introductor, inasmuch as his own name had become established, 
in some good degree of favor, with the literary world. But the 
connection with myself, he was kind enough to say, had been 
highly agreeable; nor was he by any means desirous, as most 
people are, of kicking away the ladder that had perhaps helped 
him to reach his present elevation. My young friend was willing, 
in short, that the fresh verdure of his growing reputation should 
spread over my straggling and half-naked boughs; even as I 
have sometimes thought of training a vine, with its broad leafi- 
ness, and purple fruitage, over the worm-eaten posts and rafters 
of the rustic summer-house. I was not insensible to the advantages 
of his proposal, and gladly assured him of my acceptance. 
Merely from the titles of the stories, I saw at once that the 
subjects were not less rich than those of the former volume; nor 
did I at all doubt that Mr. Bright’s audacity (so far as that 
endowment might avail) had enabled him to take full advantage 
of whatever capabilities they offered. Yet, in spite of my ex- 
perience of his free way of handling them, I did not quite see, I 
confess, how he could have obviated all the difficulties in the way 
of rendering them presentable to children. These old legends, 
so brimming over with everything that is most abhorrent to our 
Christianized moral sense, — some of them so hideous, others so 
melancholy and miserable, amid which the Greek tragedians 
sought their themes, and moulded them into the sternest forms of 
grief that ever the world saw; was such material the stuff that 
children’s playthings should be made of! How were they to be 
purified? How was the blessed sunshine to be thrown into them? 
But Eustace told me that these myths were the most singular 
things in the world, and that he was invariably astonished, when- 
ever he began to relate one, by the readiness with which it adapted 
itself to the childish purity of his auditors. The objectionable 
characteristics seem to be a parasitical growth, having no essen- 
172 


THE WAYSIDE 


tial connection with the original fable. They fall away, and are 
thought of no more, the instant he puts his imagination in sym- 
pathy with the innocent little circle, whose wide-open eyes are 
fixed so eagerly upon him. Thus the stories (not by any strained 
effort of the narrator’s, but in harmony with their inherent germ) 
transform themselves, and reassume the shapes which they might 
be supposed to possess in the pure childhood of the world. When 
the first poet or romancer told these mavellous legends (such is 
Eustace Bright’s opinion), it was still the Golden Age. Evil 
had never yet existed; and sorrow, misfortune, crime, were mere 
shadows which the mind fancifully created for itself, as a shelter 
against too sunny realities; or, at most, but prophetic dreams, 
to which the dreamer himself did not yield a waking credence. 
Children are now the only representatives of the men and women 
of that happy era; and therefore it is that we must raise the 
intellect and fancy to the level of childhood, in order to re-create 
the original myths. 

I let the youthful author talk as much and as extravagantly 
as he pleased, and was glad to see him commencing life with 
such confidence in himself and his performances. A few years 
will do all that is necessary towards showing him the truth in 
both respects. Meanwhile, it is but right to say, he does really 
appear to have overcome the moral objections against these fables, 
although at the expense of such liberties with their structure 
as must be left to plead their own excuse, without any help 
from me. Indeed, except that there was a necessity for it, — 
and that the inner life of the legends cannot be come at save 
by making them entirely one’s own property, — there is no de- 
fence to be made. 

Eustace informed me that he had told his stories to the chil- 
dren in various situations, —in the woods, on the shore of the 
lake, in the dell of Shadow Brook, in the play-room, at Tangle- 
wood fireside, and in a magnificent palace of snow, with ice win- 

173 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


dows, which he helped his little friends to build. His auditors 
were even more delighted with the contents of the present volume 
than with the specimens which have already been given to the 
world. The classically learned Mr. Pringle, too, had listened to 
two or three of the tales, and censured them even more bitterly 
than he did THe THREE GOLDEN APPLES; so that, what with 
praise, and what with criticism, Eustace Bright thinks that there 
is good hope of at least as much success with the public as in the 
case of the Wonder Book. 

I made all sorts of inquiries about the children, not doubting 
that there would be great eagerness to hear of their welfare among 
some good little folks who have written to me, to ask for another 
volume of myths. ‘They are all, I am happy to say (unless we 
except Clover), in excellent health and spirits. Primrose is now 
almost a young lady, and, Eustace tells me, is just as saucy as 
ever. She pretends to consider herself quite beyond the age to be 
interested by such idle stories as these; but, for all that, when- 
ever a story is to be told, Primrose never fails to be one of the 
listeners, and to make fun of it when finished. Periwinkle is very 
much grown, and is expected to shut up her baby-house and throw 
away her doll in a month or two more. Sweet Fern has learned 
to read and write, and has put on a jacket and pair of panta- 
loons, — all of which improvements I am sorry for. Squash- — 
Blossom, Blue Kye, Plantain, and Buttercup have had the scarlet 
fever, but came easily through it. Huckleberry, Milkweed, and 
Dandelion were attacked with the hooping-cough, but bore it 
bravely, and kept out of doors whenever the sun shone. Cowsilip, 
during the autumn, had either the measles, or some eruption that 
looked very much like it, but was hardly sick a day. Poor Clover 
has been a good deal troubled with her second teeth, which have 
made her meagre in aspect and rather fractious in temper; nor, 
even when she smiles, is the matter much mended, since it discloses 
a gap just within her lips, almost as wide as the barn door. But 

174 


THE WAYSIDE 


all this will pass over, and it is predicted that she will turn out a 
very pretty girl. 

As for Mr. Bright himself, he is now in his senior year at 
Williams College, and has a prospect of graduating with some 
degree of honorable distinction at the next Commencement. In 
his oration for the bachelor’s degree, he gives me to understand, 
he will treat of the classical myths, viewed in the aspect of baby 
stories, and has a great mind to discuss the expediency of using 
up the whole of ancient history for the same purpose. I do not 
know what he means to do with himself after leaving college, but 
trust that, by dabbling so early with the dangerous and seductive 
business of authorship, he will not be tempted to become an 
author by profession. If so, I shall be very sorry for the little 
that I have had to do with the matter, in encouraging these first 
beginnings. 

I wish there were any likelihood of my soon seeing Primrose, 
Periwinkle, Dandelion, Sweet Fern, Clover, Plantain, Huckle- 
berry, Milkweed, Cowslip, Buttercup, Blue Eye, and Squash- 
Blossom again. But as I do not know when [I shall revisit Tangle- 
wood, and as Eustace Bright probably will not ask me to edit a 
third Wonder Book, the public of little folks must not expect to 
hear any more about those dear children from me. Heaven bless 
them, and everybody else, whether grown people or children! 


THe WaysipE, Concorp, Mass. 
March 13, 1853. 


175 


The Minotaur 


N the old city of Troezene, at the foot of a lofty mountain, 

there lived, a very long time ago, a little boy named Theseus. 

His grandfather, King Pittheus, was the sovereign of that 
country, and was reckoned a very wise man; so that Theseus, 
being brought up in the royal palace, and being naturally a bright 
lad, could hardly fail of profiting by the old king’s instructions. 
His mother’s name was Aithra. As for his father, the boy had 
never seen him. But, from his earliest remembrance, Adthra 
used to go with little Theseus into a wood, and sit down upon a 
moss-grown rock, which was deeply sunk into the earth. Here 
she often talked with her son about his father, and said that he 
was called Aigeus, and that he was a great king, and ruled over 
Attica, and dwelt at Athens, which was as famous a city as any 
in the world. Theseus was very fond of hearing about King 
Aigeus, and often asked his good mother Aithra why he did not 
come and live with them at Troezene. 

“ Ah, my dear son,” answered ASthra, with a sigh, “a mon- 
arch has his people to take care of. The men and women over 
whom he rules are in the place of children to him; and he can 
seldom spare time to love his own children as other parents do. 
Your father will never be able to leave his kingdom for the sake 
of seeing his little boy.” 

“ Well, but, dear mother,” asked the boy, “ why cannot I 
go to this famous city of Athens, and tell King Adgeus that I am 
his son?” 

176 


THE MINOTAUR 


“That may happen by and by,” said Adthra. “ Be patient, 
and we shall see. You are not yet big and strong enough to set 
out on such an errand.” 

“And how soon shall I be strong enough?” Theseus persisted 
in inquiring. 

“You are but a tiny boy as yet,” replied his mother. “See if 
you can lift this rock on which we are sitting?” 

The little fellow had a great opinion of his own strength. 
So, grasping the rough protuberances of the rock, he tugged and 
toiled amain, and got himself quite out of breath, without being 
able to stir the heavy stone. It seemed to be rooted into the 
ground. No wonder he could not move it; for it would have 
taken all the force of a very strong man to lift it out of its earthy 
bed. 

His mother stood looking on, with a sad kind of a smile on 
her lips and in her eyes, to see the zealous and yet puny efforts 
of her little boy. She could not help being sorrowful at finding 
him already so impatient to begin his adventures in the world. 

“You see how it is, my dear Theseus,” said she. “ You must 
possess far more strength than now before I can trust you to go 
to Athens, and tell King A®geus that you are his son, But when 
you can lift this rock, and show me what is hidden beneath it, I 
promise you my permission to depart.” 

Often and often, after this, did Theseus ask his mother 
whether it was yet time for him to go to Athens; and still his 
mother pointed to the rock, and told him that, for years to come, 
he could not be strong enough to move it. And again and again 
the rosy-cheeked and curly-headed boy would tug and strain at 
the huge mass of stone, striving, child as he was, to do what a 
giant could hardly have done without taking both of his great 
hands to the task. Meanwhile the rock seemed to be sinking 
farther and farther into the ground. The moss grew over it 
thicker and thicker, until at last it looked almost like a soft green 

12 177 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


seat, with only a few gray knobs of granite peeping out. The 
overhanging trees, also, shed their brown leaves upon it, as often 
as the autumn came; and at its base grew ferns and wild flowers, 
some of which crept quite over its surface. To all appearance, the 
rock was as firmly fastened as any other portion of the earth’s 
substance. 

But, difficult as the matter looked, Theseus was now growing 
up to be such a vigorous youth, that, in his own opinion, the time 
would quickly come when he might hope to get the upper hand 
of this ponderous lump of stone. 

‘ Mother, I do believe it has started!” cried he, after one of 
his attempts. “‘ The earth around it is certainly a little cracked!” 

“ No, no, child!” his mother hastily answered. “It is not 
possible you can have moved it, such a boy as you still are! ” 

Nor would she be convinced, although Theseus showed her the 
place where he fancied that the stem of a flower had been partly 
uprooted by the movement of the rock. But Adthra sighed and 
looked disquieted; for, no doubt, she began to be conscious that 
her son was no longer a child, and that, in a little while hence, 
she must send him forth among the perils and troubles of the 
world. 

It was not more than a year afterwards when they were again 
sitting on the moss-covered stone. Adthra had once more told 
him the oft-repeated story of his father, and how gladly he would 
receive Theseus at his stately palace, and how he would present 
him to his courtiers and the people, and tell them that here was 
the heir of his dominions. The eyes of Theseus glowed with 
enthusiasm, and he would hardly sit still to hear his mother 
speak. 

“ Dear mother Aithra,” he exclaimed, “I never felt half so 
strong as now! I am no longer a child, nor a boy, nor a mere 
youth! I feel myself aman! It is now time to make one earnest 
trial to remove the stone! ” 

178 


THE MINOTAUR 


“Ah, my dearest Theseus,” replied his mother, “not yet! 
not yet!” 

“Yes, mother,” said he, resolutely, “ the time has come.” 

Then Theseus bent himself in good earnest to the task, and 
strained every sinew, with manly strength and resolution. He 
put his whole brave heart into the effort. He wrestled with the 
big and sluggish stone, as if it had been a living enemy. He 
heaved, he lifted, he resolved now to succeed, or else to perish 
there, and let the rock be his monument forever! A‘thra stood 
gazing at him, and clasped her hands, partly with a mother’s 
pride, and partly with a mother’s sorrow. The great rock stirred! 
Yes, it was raised slowly from the bedded moss and earth, up- 
rooting the shrubs and flowers along with it, and was turned upon 
its side. Theseus had conquered! 

While taking breath, he looked joyfully at his mother, and 
she smiled upon him through her tears. 

“Yes, Theseus,” she said, “ the time has come, and you must 
stay no longer at my side! See what King Avgeus, your royal 
father, left for you, beneath the stone, when he lifted it in his 
mighty arms, and laid it on the spot whence you have now re- 
moved it.” 

Theseus looked, and saw that the rock had been placed over 
another slab of stone, containing a cavity within it; so that it 
somewhat resembled a roughly made chest or coffer, of which the 
upper mass had served as the lid. Within the cavity lay a sword, 
with a golden hilt, and a pair of sandals. 

“That was your father’s sword,” said Aathra, “and those 
were his sandals. When he went to be king of Athens, he bade 
me treat you as a child until you should prove yourself a man by 
lifting this heavy stone. That task being accomplished, you are to 
put on his sandals, in order to follow in your father’s footsteps, 
and to gird on his sword, so that you may fight giants and drag- 
ons, as King Avgeus did in his youth.” 

179 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


“T will set out for Athens this very day!” cried Theseus. 

But his mother persuaded him to stay a day or two longer, 
while she got ready some necessary articles for his journey. 
When his grandfather, the wise King Pittheus, heard that Theseus 
intended to present himself at his father’s palace, he earnestly 
advised him to get on board of a vessel, and go by sea; because 
he might thus arrive within fifteen miles of Athens, without either 
fatigue or danger. 

“ The roads are very bad by land,” quoth the venerable king; 
“and they are terribly infested with robbers and monsters. A 
mere lad, like Theseus, is not fit to be trusted on such a perilous 
journey, all by himself. No, no; let him go by sea!” 

But when Theseus heard of robbers and monsters, he pricked 
up his ears, and was so much the more eager to take the road along 
which they were to be met with. On the third day, therefore, he 
bade a respectful farewell to his grandfather, thanking him for 
all his kindness, and, after affectionately embracing his mother, 
he set forth, with a good many of her tears glistening on his 
cheeks, and some, if the truth must be told, that had gushed out 
of his own eyes. But he let the sun and wind dry them, and 
walked stoutly on, playing with the golden hilt of his sword and 
taking very manly strides in his father’s sandals. 

I cannot stop to tell you hardly any of the adventures that 
befell Theseus on the road to Athens. It is enough to say, that 
he quite cleared that part of the country of the robbers, about 
whom King Pittheus had been so much alarmed. One of these 
bad people was named Procrustes; and he was indeed a terrible 
fellow, and had an ugly way of making fun of the poor travellers 
who happened to fall into his clutches. In his cavern he had a 
bed, on which, with great pretence of hospitality, he invited 
his guests to lie down; but if they happened to be shorter than 
the bed, this wicked villain stretched them out by main force; or, 
if they were too long, he lopped off their heads or feet, and laughed 

180 


THE MINOTAUR 


at what he had done, as an excellent joke. Thus, however weary 
a man might be, he never liked to lie in the bed of Procrustes. 
Another of these robbers, named Scinis, must likewise have been 
avery great scoundrel. He was in the habit of flinging his victims 
off a high cliff into the sea; and, in order to give him exactly 
his deserts, Theseus tossed him off the very same place. But if 
you will believe me, the sea would not pollute itself by receiving 
such a bad person into its bosom, neither would the earth, having 
once got rid of him, consent to take him back; so that, between 
the cliff and the sea, Scinis stuck fast in the air, which was forced 
to bear the burden of his naughtiness. 

After these memorable deeds, Theseus heard of an enormous 
sow, which ran wild, and was the terror of all the farmers round 
about; and, as he did not consider himself above doing any good 
thing that came in his way, he killed this monstrous creature, 
and gave the carcass to the poor peple for bacon. The great 
sow had been an awful beast, while ramping about the woods 
and fields, but was a pleasant object enough when cut up into 
joints, and smoking on I know not how many dinner tables. 

Thus, by the time he had reached his journey’s end, Theseus 
had done many valiant deeds with his father’s golden-hilted sword, 
and had gained the renown of being one of the bravest young men 
of the day. His fame travelled faster than he did, and reached 
Athens before him. As he entered the city, he heard the inhabit- 
ants talking at the street-corners, and saying that Hercules was 
brave, and Jason too, and Castor and Pollux likewise, but that 
Theseus, the son of their own king, would turn out as great a 
hero as the best of them. Theseus took longer strides on hear- 
ing this, and fancied himself sure of a magnificent reception at 
his father’s court, since he came hither with Fame to blow her 
trumpet before him, and cry to King Adgeus, “Behold your 
son!” : 

He little suspected, innocent youth that he was, that here, in 

181 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


this very Athens, where his father reigned, a greater danger 
awaited him than any which he had encountered on the road. 
Yet this was the truth. You must understand that the father of 
Theseus, though not very old in years, was almost worn out with 
the cares of government, and had thus grown aged before his 
time. His nephews, not expecting him to live a very great while, 
intended to get all the power of the kingdom into their own hands. 
But when they heard that Theseus had arrived in Athens, and 
learned what a gallant young man he was, they saw that he would 
not be at all the kind of person to let them steal away his father’s 
crown and sceptre, which ought to be his own by right of in- 
heritance. Thus these bad-hearted nephews of King Aigeus, who 
were the own cousins of Theseus, at once became his enemies. 
A still more dangerous enemy was Medea, the wicked enchantress; 
for she was now the king’s wife, and wanted to give the kingdom 
to her son Medus, instead of letting it be given to the son of 
/Mthra, whom she hated. 

It so happened that the king’s nephews met Theseus, and 
found out who he was, just as he reached the entrance of the 
royal palace. With all their evil designs against him, they pre- 
tended to be their cousin’s best friends, and expressed great joy 
at making his acquaintance. They proposed to him that he should 
come into the king’s presence as a stranger, in order to try 
whether AXgeus would discover in the young man’s features any 
likeness either to himself or his mother Aithra, and thus recog- 
nize him for a son. Theseus consented; for he fancied that his 
father would know him in a moment, by the love that was in his 
heart. But, while he waited at the door, the nephews ran and told 
King AXgeus that a young man had arrived in Athens, who, to 
their certain knowledge, intended to put him to death, and get pos- 
session of his royal crown. 

“ And he is now waiting for admission to your Majesty’s pres- 
ence,” added they. 

182 


THE MINOTAUR 


“ Aha!” cried the old king, on hearing this. ‘“ Why, he must 
be a very wicked young fellow indeed! Pray, what would you 
advise me to do with him?” 

In reply to this question, the wicked Medea put in her word. 
As I have already told you, she was a famous enchantress. Ac- 
cording to some stories, she was in the habit of boiling old people 
in a large caldron, under pretence of making them young again; 
but King Avgeus, I suppose, did not fancy such an uncomfortable 
way of growing young, or perhaps was contented to be old, and 
therefore would never let himself be popped into the caldron. 
If there were time to spare from more important matters, I should 
be glad to tell you of Medea’s fiery chariot, drawn by winged 
dragons, in which the enchantress used often to take an airing 
among the clouds. This chariot, in fact, was the vehicle that first 
brought her to Athens, where she had done nothing but mischief 
ever since her arrival. But these and many other wonders must be 
left untold; and it is enough to say, that Medea, amongst a 
thousand other bad things, knew how to prepare a poison, that 
was instantly fatal to whomsoever might so much as touch it with 
his lips. 

So, when the king asked what he should do with Theseus, 
this naughty woman had an answer ready at her tongue’s end. 

“ Leave that to me, please your Majesty,” she replied. “ Only 
admit this evil-minded young man to your presence, treat him 
civilly, and invite him to drink a goblet of wine. Your Majesty 
is well aware that I sometimes amuse myself with distilling very 
powerful medicines. Here is one of them in this small phial. As 
to what it is made of, that is one of my secrets of state. Do but 
let me put a single drop into the goblet, and let the young man 
taste it; and I will answer for it, he shall quite lay aside the bad 
designs with which he comes hither.” 

As she said this, Medea smiled; but, for all her smiling face, 
she meant nothing less than to poison the poor innocent Theseus, 

183 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


before his father’s eyes. And King A®geus, like most other 
kings, thought any punishment mild enough for a person who 
was accused of plotting against his life. He therefore made little 
or no objection to Medea’s scheme, and as soon as the poisonous 
wine was ready, gave orders that the young stranger should be 
admitted into his presence. The goblet was set on a table beside 
the king’s throne; and a fly, meaning just to sip a little from the 
brim, immediately tumbled into it, dead. Observing this, Medea 
looked round at the nephews, and smiled again. 

When Theseus was ushered into the royal apartment, the only 
object that he seemed to behold was the white-bearded old king. 
There he sat on his magnificent throne, a dazzling crown on his 
head, and a sceptre in his hand. His aspect was stately and ma- 
jestic, although his years and infirmities weighed heavily upon 
him, as if each year were a lump of lead, and each infirmity a 
ponderous stone, and all were bundled up together, and laid upon 
his weary shoulders. The tears both of joy and sorrow sprang 
into the young man’s eyes; for he thought how sad it was to see 
his dear father so infirm, and how sweet it would be to support 
him with his own youthful strength, and to cheer him up with the 
alacrity of his loving spirit. When a son takes his father into his 
warm heart, it renews the old man’s youth in a better way than by 
the heat of Medea’s magic caldron. And this was what Theseus 
resolved to do. He could scarcely wait to see whether King 
fHigeus would recognize him, so eager was he to throw himself 
into his arms. 

Advancing to the foot of the throne, he attempted to make 
a little speech, which he had been thinking about, as he came up 
the stairs. But he was almost choked by a great many tender 
feelings that gushed out of his heart and swelled into his throat, 
all struggling to find utterance together. And therefore, unless 
he could have laid his full, over-brimming heart into the king’s 
hand, poor Theseus knew not what to do or say. The cunning 

184 


THE MINOTAUR 


Medea observed what was passing in the young man’s mind. 
She was more wicked at that moment than ever she had been be- 
fore; for (and it makes me tremble to tell you of it) she did her 
worst to turn all this unspeakable love with which Theseus was 
agitated, to his own ruin and destruction. 

“ Does your Majesty see his confusion?” she whispered in the 
king’s ear. ‘ He is so conscious of guilt, that he trembles and 
cannot speak. The wretch lives too long! Quick! offer him the 
wine! ” 

“ Now King AXgeus had been gazing earnestly at the young 
stranger, as he drew near the throne. There was something, 
he knew not what, either in his white brow, or in the fine expres- 
sion of his mouth, or in his beautiful and tender eyes, that made 
him indistinctly feel as if he had seen this youth before; as if, in- 
deed, he had trotted him on his knee when a baby, and had beheld 
him growing to be a stalwart man, while he himself grew old. 
But Medea guessed how the king felt, and would not suffer him 
to yield to these natural sensibilities; although they were the 
voice of his deepest heart, telling him, as plainly as it could speak, 
that here was his dear son, and Authra’s son, coming to claim him 
for a father. The enchantress again whispered in the king’s ear, 
and compelled him, by her witchcraft, to see everything under a 
false aspect. 

He made up his mind, therefore, to let Theseus drink off the 
poisoned wine. 

“ Young man,” said he, “you are welcome! I am proud to 
show hospitality to so heroic a youth. Do me the favor to drink 
the contents of this goblet. It is brimming over, as you see, 
with delicious wine, such as I bestow only on those who are worthy 
of it! None is more worthy to quaff it than yourself! ” 

So saying, King Aigeus took the golden goblet from the 
table, and was about to offer it to Theseus. But, partly through 
his infirmities, and partly because it seemed so sad a thing to take 

185 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


away this young man’s life, however wicked he might be, and 
partly, no doubt, because his heart was wiser than his head, and 
quaked within him at the thought of what he was going to do, 
— for all these reasons, the king’s hand trembled so much that 
a great deal of the wine slopped over. In order to strengthen 
his purpose, and fearing lest the whole of the precious poison 
should be wasted, one of his nephews now whispered to him, — 

“ Has your Majesty any doubt of this stranger’s guilt? There 
is the very sword with which he meant to slay you. How sharp, 
and bright, and terrible it is! Quick! — let him taste the wine; 
or perhaps he may do the deed even yet.” 

At these words, Aigeus drove every thought and feeling out 
of his breast, except the one idea of how justly the young man 
deserved to be put to death. He sat erect on his throne, and held 
out the goblet of wine with a steady hand, and bent on Theseus 
a frown of kingly severity; for, after all, he had too noble a spirit 
to murder even a treacherous enemy with a deceitful smile upon 
his face. 

“ Drink!” said he, in the stern tone with which he was wont 
to condemn a criminal to be beheaded. “ You have well deserved 
of me such wine as this! ” 

Theseus held out his hand to take the wine. But, before he 
touched it, King Aiigeus trembled again. His eyes had fallen on 
the gold-hilted sword that hung at the young man’s side. He 
drew back the goblet. 

“That sword!” he cried; “ how came you by it?” 

“It was my father’s sword,” replied Theseus, with a tremu- 
lous voice. “ These were his sandals. My dear mother (her name 
is “Hithra) told me his story while I was yet a little child. But 
it is only a month since I grew strong enough to lift the heavy 
stone, and take the sword and sandals from beneath it, and come 
to Athens to seek my father.” 

“ My son! my son!” cried King Ageus, flinging away the 

186 


THE MINOTAUR 


fatal goblet, and tottering down from the throne to fall into the 
arms of Theseus. “ Yes, these are Aithra’s eyes. It is my son.” 

I have quite forgotten what became of the king’s nephews. 
But when the wicked Medea saw this new turn of affairs, she 
hurried out of the room, and going to her private chamber, lost 
no time in setting her enchantments at work. In a few moments, 
she heard a great noise of hissing snakes outside of the chamber 
window; and, behold! there was her fiery chariot, and four huge 
winged serpents, wriggling and twisting in the air, flourishing 
their tails higher than the top of the palace, and all ready to set 
off on an aerial journey. Medea stayed only long enough to take 
her son with her, and to steal the crown jewels, together with the 
king’s best robes, and whatever other valuable things she could 
lay hands on; and getting into the chariot, she whipped up the 
snakes, and ascended high over the city. 

The king, hearing the hiss of the serpents, scrambled as fast 
as he could to the window, and bawled out to the abominable 
enchantress never to come back. The whole people of Athens, 
too, who had run out of doors to see this wonderful spectacle, set 
up a shout of joy at the prospect of getting rid of her. Medea, 
almost bursting with rage, uttered precisely such a hiss as one of 
her own snakes, only ten times more venomous and spiteful; and 
glaring fiercely out of the blaze of the chariot, she shook her hands 
over the multitude below, as if she were scattering a million of 
curses among them. In so doing, however, she unintentionally 
let fall about five hundred diamonds of the first water, together 
with a thousand great pearls, and two thousand emeralds, rubies, 
sapphires, opals, and topazes, to which she had helped herself 
out of the king’s strong-box. All these came pelting down, like 
a shower of many-colored hailstones, upon the heads of grown 
people and children, who forthwith gathered them up and carried 
them back to the palace. But King AX geus told them that they 
were welcome to the whole, and to twice as many more, if he had 

187 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


them, for the sake of his delight at finding his son, and losing the 
wicked Medea. And, indeed, if you had seen how hateful was 
her last look, as the flaming chariot flew upward, you would not 
have wondered that both king and people should think her de- 
parture a good riddance. 

And now Prince Theseus was taken into great favor by his 
royal father. The old king was never weary of having him sit 
beside him on his throne (which was quite wide enough for two), 
and of hearing him tell about his dear mother, and his childhood, 
and his many boyish efforts to lift the ponderous stone. Theseus, 
however, was much too brave and active a young man to be will- 
ing to spend all his time in relating things which had already hap- 
pened. His ambition was to perform other and more heroic deeds, 
which should be better worth telling in prose and verse. Nor 
had he been long in Athens before he caught and chained a terri- 
ble mad bull, and made a public show of him, greatly to the won- 
der and admiration of good King A‘geus and his subjects. But 
pretty soon, he undertook an affair that made all his foregone 
adventures seem like mere boy’s play. The occasion of it was as 
follows: — 

One morning, when Prince Theseus awoke, he fancied that 
he must have had a very sorrowful dream, and that it was still 
running in his mind, even now that his eyes were open. For it 
appeared as if the air was full of a melancholy wail; and when he 
listened more attentively, he could hear sobs and groans, and 
screams of woe, mingled with deep, quiet sighs, which came from 
the king’s palace, and from the streets, and from the temples, 
and from every habitation in the city. And all these mournful 
noises, issuing out of thousands of separate hearts, united them- 
selves into the one great sound of affliction, which had startled 
Theseus from slumber. He put on his clothes as quickly as he 
could (not forgetting his sandals and gold-hilted sword), and 
hastening to the king, inquired what it all meant. 

188 


THE MINOTAUR 


“ Alas! my son,” quoth King Avgeus, heaving a long sigh, 
“here is a very lamentable matter in hand! This is the wofull- 
est anniversary in the whole year. It is the day when we annually 
draw lots to see which of the youths and maidens of Athens shall 
go to be devoured by the horrible Minotaur!” 

“The Minotaur!” exclaimed Prince Theseus; and, like a 
brave young prince as he was, he put his hand to the hilt of his 
sword. ‘“ What kind of a monster may that be? Is it not possible, 
at the risk of one’s life, to slay him? ” 

But King A%geus shook his venerable head, and to convince 
Theseus that it was quite a hopeless case, he gave him an ex- 
planation of the whole affair. It seems that in the island of 
Crete there lived a certain dreadful monster, called a Minotaur, 
which was shaped partly like a man and partly like a bull, and 
was altogether such a hideous sort of a creature that it is really 
disagreeable to think of him. If he were suffered to exist at all, 
it should have been on some desert island, or in the duskiness of 
some deep cavern, where nobody would ever be tormented by 
his abominable aspect. But King Minos, who reigned over 
Crete, laid out a vast deal of money in building a habitation for 
the Minotaur, and took great care of his health and comfort, 
merely for mischief’s sake. A few years before this time, there 
had been a war between the city of Athens and the island of 
Crete, in which the Athenians were beaten, and compelled to beg 
for peace. No peace could they obtain, however, except on con- 
dition that they should send seven young men and seven maidens, 
every year, to be devoured by the pet monster of the cruel King 
Minos. For three years past, this grievous calamity had been 
borne. And the sobs, and groans, and shrieks, with which the 
city was now filled, were caused by the people’s woe, because the 
fatal day had come again, when the fourteen victims were to be 
chosen by lot; and the old people feared lest their sons or daugh- 
ters might be taken, and the youths and damsels dreaded lest 

189 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


they themselves might be destined to glut the ravenous maw of 
that detestable man-brute. 

But when Theseus heard the story, he straightened himself 
up, so that he seemed taller than ever before; and as for his face, 
it was indignant, despiteful, bold, tender, and compassionate, 
all in one look. 

“Let the people of Athens, this year, draw lots for only six 
young men, instead of seven,” said he. “I will myself be the 
seventh; and let the Minotaur devour me, if he can! ” 

“O my dear son,” cried King Adgeus, “ why should you ex- 
pose yourself to this horrible fate? You are a royal prince, and 
have a right to hold yourself above the destinies of common 
men.” 

“It is because I am a prince, your son, and the rightful heir 
of your kingdom, that I freely take upon me the calamity of 
your subjects,” answered Theseus. “ And you, my father, being 
king over this people, and answerable to Heaven for their wel- 
fare, are bound to sacrifice what is dearest to you, rather than 
that the son or daughter of the poorest citizen should come to any 
harm.” 

The old king shed tears, and besought Theseus not to leave 
him desolate in his old age, more especially as he had but just 
begun to know the happiness of possessing a good and valiant 
son. ‘Theseus, however, felt that he was in the right, and there- 
fore would not give up his resolution. But he assured his father 
that he did not intend to be eaten up, unresistingly, lke a sheep, 
and that, if the Minotaur devoured him, it should not be without 
a battle for his dinner. And finally, since he could not help it, 
King geus consented to let him go. So a vessel was got ready, 
and rigged with black sails; and Theseus, with six other young 
men, and seven tender and beautiful damsels, came down to the 
harbor to embark. A sorrowful multitude accompanied them to 
the shore. There was the poor old king, too, leaning on his son’s 

190 


THE MINOTAUR 


arm, and looking as if his single heart held all the grief of 
Athens. 

Just as Prince Theseus was going on board, his father be- 
thought himself of one last word to say. 

‘My beloved son,” said he, grasping the prince’s hand, “ you 
observe that the sails of this vessel are black; as indeed they 
ought to be, since it goes upon a voyage of sorrow and despair. 
Now, being weighed down with infirmities, I know not whether 
I can survive till the vessel shall return. But, as long as I do 
live, I shall creep daily to the top of yonder cliff, to watch if 
there be a sail upon the sea. And, dearest Theseus, if by some 
happy chance you should escape the jaws of the Minotaur, then 
tear down those dismal sails, and hoist others that shall be bright 
as the sunshine. Beholding them on the horizon, myself and all 
the people will know that you are coming back victorious, and will 
welcome you with such a festal uproar as Athens never heard 
before.” 

Theseus promised that he would do so. Then, going on board, 
the mariners trimmed the vessel’s black sails to the wind, which 
blew faintly off the shore, being pretty much made up of the sighs 
that everybody kept pouring forth on this melancholy occasion. 
But by and by, when they had got fairly out to sea, there came 
a stiff breeze from the northwest, and drove them along as mer- 
rily over the white-capped waves as if they had been going on the 
most delightful errand imaginable. And though it was a sad 
business enough, I rather question whether fourteen young peo- 
ple, without any old persons to keep them in order, could con- 
tinue to spend the whole time of the voyage in being miserable. 
There had been some few dances upon the undulating deck, I sus- 
pect, and some hearty bursts of laughter, and other such unseas- 
onable merriment among the victims, before the high, blue moun- 
tains of Crete began to show themselves among the far-off clouds. 
That sight, to be sure, made them all very grave again. 

191 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


Theseus stood among the sailors, gazing eagerly towards the 
land; although, as yet, it seemed hardly more substantial than the 
clouds, amidst which the mountains were looming up. Once or 
twice, he fancied that he saw a glare of some bright object, a long 
way off, flmging a gleam across the waves. 

“ Did you see that flash of light?” he inquired of the master 
of the vessel. 

“ No, prince; but I have seen it before,” answered the master. 
“It came from Talus, I suppose.” 

As the breeze came fresher just then, the master was busy 
with trimming his sails, and had no more time to answer ques- 
tions. But while the vessel flew faster and faster towards Crete, 
Theseus was astonished to behold a human figure, gigantic in size, 
which appeared to be striding with a measured movement, along 
the margin of the island. It stepped from cliff to cliff, and some- 
times from one headland to another, while the sea foamed and 
thundered on the shore beneath, and dashed its jets of spray over 
the giant’s feet. What was still more remarkable, whenever the 
sun shone on this huge figure, it flickered and glimmered; its vast 
countenance, too, had a metallic lustre, and threw great flashes 
of splendor through the air. The folds of its garments, more- 
over, instead of waving in the wind, fell heavily over its limbs, 
as if woven of some kind of metal. ; 

The nigher the vessel came, the more Theseus wondered what 
this immense giant could be, and whether it actually had life 
or no. For though it walked, and made other lifelike motions, 
there yet was a kind of jerk in its gait, which, together with its 
brazen aspect, caused the young prince to suspect that it was no 
true giant, but only a wonderful piece of machinery. The figure 
looked all the more terrible because it carried an enormous brass 
club on its shoulder. 

* What is this wonder?” Theseus asked of the master of the 
vessel, who was now at leisure to answer him. 

192 


THE MINOTAUR 


“Tt is Talus, the Man of Brass,” said the master. 

“ And is he a live giant, or a brazen image?” asked Theseus. 

“That, truly,” replied the master, “is the point which has 
always perplexed me. Some say, indeed, that this ‘Talus was ham- 
mered out for King Minos by Vulcan himself, the skilfullest of 
all workers in metal. But who ever saw a brazen image that had 
sense enough to walk round an island three times a day, as this 
giant walks round the island of Crete, challenging every vessel 
that comes nigh the shore? And, on the other hand, what living 
thing, unless his sinews were made of brass, would not be weary 
of marching eighteen hundred miles in the twenty-four hours, 
as Talus does, without ever sitting down to rest? He is a puz- 
zler, take him how you will.” 

Still the vessel went bounding onward; and now Theseus 
could hear the brazen clangor of the giant’s footsteps, as he trod 
heavily upon the sea-beaten rocks, some of which were seen to 
crack and crumble into the foamy waves beneath his weight. As 
they approached the entrance of the port, the giant straddled clear 
across it, with a foot firmly planted on each headland, and up- 
lifting his club to such a height that its butt-end was hidden in 
a cloud, he stood in that formidable posture, with the sun gleaming 
all over his metallic surface. There seemed nothing else to be 
expected but that, the next moment, he would fetch his great 
club down, slam bang, and smash the vessel into a thousand pieces, 
without heeding how many innocent people he might destroy; 
for there is seldom any mercy in a giant, you know, and quite as 
little in a piece of brass clockwork. But just when Theseus and 
his companions thought the blow was coming, the brazen lips un- 
closed themselves, and the figure spoke. 

“Whence come you, strangers?” 

And when the ringing voice ceased, there was just such a re- 
verberation as you may have heard within a great church bell, 
for a moment or two after the stroke of the hammer. 

13 193 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


“From Athens!” shouted the master in reply. ~ 

“ On what errand?” thundered the Man of Brass. 

And he whirled his club aloft more threateningly than ever, as 
if he were about to smite them with a thunder-stroke right amid- 
ships, because Athens, so little while ago, had been at war with 
Crete. 

“ We bring the seven youths and the seven maidens,” an- 
swered the master, “to be devoured by the Minotaur! ” 

“ Pass!” cried the brazen giant. 

That one loud word rolled all about the sky, while again there 
was a booming reverberation within the figure’s breast. The 
vessel glided between the headlands of the port, and the giant 
resumed his march. In a few moments, this wondrous sentinel 
was far away, flashing in the distant sunshine, and revolving 
with immense strides around the island of Crete, as it was his 
never-ceasing task to do. 

No sooner had they entered the harbor than a party of the 
guards of King Minos came down to the water-side, and took 
charge of the fourteen young men and damsels. Surrounded by 
these armed warriors, Prince Theseus and his companions were 
led to the king’s palace, and ushered into his presence. Now, 
Minos was a stern and pitiless king. If the figure that guarded 
Crete was made of brass, then the monarch, who ruled over ie 
might be thought to have a still harder metal in his breast, and 
might have been called a man of iron. He bent his shaggy brows 
upon the poor Athenian victims. Any other mortal, beholding 
their fresh and tender beauty, and their innocent looks, would 
have felt himself sitting on thorns until he had made every soul 
of them happy, by bidding them go free as the summer wind. 
But this immitigable Minos cared only to examine whether they 
were plump enough to satisfy the Minotaur’s appetite. For my 
part, I wish he had himself been the only victim; and the monster 
would have found him a pretty tough one. 

194 


THE MINOTAUR 


One after another, King Minos called these pale, frightened 
youths and sobbing maidens to his footstool, gave them each a 
poke in the ribs with his sceptre (to try whether they were in good 
flesh or no), and dismissed them with a nod to his guards. But 
when his eyes rested on Theseus, the king looked at him more 
attentively, because his face was calm and brave. 

“Young man,” asked he, with his stern voice, “ are you not 
appalled at the certainty of being devoured by this terrible 
Minotaur? ” 

“T have offered my life in a good cause,” answered Theseus, 
“and therefore I give it freely and gladly. But thou, King 
Minos, art thou not thyself appalled, who, year after year, hast 
perpetrated this dreadful wrong, by giving seven innocent youths 
and as many maidens to be devoured by a monster? Dost thou 
not tremble, wicked king, to turn thine eyes inward on thine 
own heart? Sitting there on thy golden throne, and in thy robes 
of majesty, I tell thee to thy face, King Minos, thou art a more 
hideous monster than the Minotaur himself!” 

“Aha! do you think me so?” cried the king, laughing in 
his cruel way. “To-morrow, at breakfast-time, you shall have 
an opportunity of judging which is the greater monster, the 
Minotaur or the king! Take them away, guards; and let this 
free-spoken youth be the Minotaur’s first morsel!” 

Near the king’s throne (though I had no time to tell you so 
before) stood his daughter Ariadne. She was a beautiful and 
tender-hearted maiden, and looked at these poor doomed captives 
with very different feelings from those of the iron-breasted King 
Minos. She really wept, indeed, at the idea of how much human 
happiness would be needlessly thrown away, by giving so many 
young people, in the first bloom and rose blossom of their lives, 
to be eaten up by a creature who, no doubt, would have preferred 
a fat ox, or even a large pig, to the plumpest of them. And when 
she beheld the brave, spirited figure of Prince Theseus bear- 

195 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


ing himself so calmly in his terrible peril, she grew a hundred 
times more pitiful than before. As the guards were taking him 
away, she flung herself at the king’s feet, and besought him 
to set all the captives free, and especially this one young 
man. 

“ Peace, foolish girl!” answered King Minos. ‘“ What hast 
thou to do with an affair like this? It is a matter of state policy, 
and therefore quite beyond thy weak comprehension. Go water 
thy flowers, and think no more of these Athenian caitiffs, whom 
the Minotaur shall as certainly eat up for breakfast as I will eat 
a partridge for my supper.” 

So saying, the king looked cruel enough to devour Theseus 
and all the rest of the captives, himself, had there been no Mino- 
taur to save him the trouble. As he would not hear another word 
in their favor, the prisoners were now led away, and clapped into 
a dungeon, where the jailer advised them to go to sleep as soon 
as possible, because the Minotaur was in the habit of calling for 
breakfast early. The seven maidens and six of the young men 
soon sobbed themselves to slumber! But Theseus was not like 
them. He felt conscious that he was wiser and braver and stronger 
than his companions, and that therefore he had the responsibility 
of all their lives upon him, and must consider whether there was 
no way to save them, even in this last extremity. So he kept 
himself awake, and paced to and fro across the gloomy dungeon 
in which they were shut up. 

Just before midnight, the door was softly unbarred, and the 
gentle Ariadne showed herself, with a torch in her hand. 

“Are you awake, Prince Theseus?” she whispered. 

“Yes,” answered Theseus. ‘“‘ With so little time to live, I 
do not choose to waste any of it in sleep.” 

“Then follow me,” said Ariadne, “and tread softly.” 

What had become of the jailer and the guards, Theseus 
never knew. But however that might be, Ariadne opened all 

196 


THE MINOTAUR 


the doors, and led him forth from the darksome prison into the 
pleasant moonlight. 

“ Theseus,” said the maiden, “ you can now get on board your 
vessel, and sail away for Athens.” 

“No,” answered the young man; “I will never leave Crete 
unless I can first slay the Minotaur, and save my poor compan- 
ions, and deliver Athens from this cruel tribute.” 

“I knew that this would be your resolution,” said Ariadne. 
“ Come, then, with me, brave Theseus. Here is your own sword, 
which the guards deprived you of. You will need it; and pray 
Heaven you may use it well.” 

Then she led Theseus along by the hand until they came to 
a dark, shadowy grove, where the moonlight wasted itself on the 
tops of the trees, without shedding hardly so much as a glimmer- 
ing beam upon their pathway. After going a good way through 
this obscurity, they reached a high, marble wall, which was over- 
grown with creeping plants, that made it shaggy with their ver- 
dure. The wall seemed to have no door, nor any windows, but 
rose up, lofty, and massive, and mysterious, and was neither to be 
clambered over, nor, so far as Theseus could perceive, to be 
passed through. Nevertheless, Ariadne did but press one of 
her soft little fingers against a particular block of marble, and, 
though it looked as solid as any other part of the wall, it yielded 
to her touch, disclosing an entrance just wide enough to admit 
them. ‘They crept through, and the marble stone swung back 
into its place. 

“We are now,” said Ariadne, “in the famous labyrinth 
which Daedalus built before he made himself a pair of wings, 
and flew away from our island like a bird. That Dedalus 
was a very cunning workman; but of all his artful contriv- 
ances, this labyrinth is the most wondrous. Were we to take but 
a few steps from the doorway, we might wander about all our 
lifetime, and never find it again. Yet in the very centre of this 

197 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


labyrinth is the Minotaur; and, Theseus, you must go thither to 
seek him.” 

‘“‘ But how shall I ever find him?” asked Theseus, “if the 
labyrinth so bewilders me as you say it will?” 

Just as he spoke, they heard a rough and very disagreeable 
roar, which greatly resembled the lowing of a fierce bull, but yet 
had some sort of sound like the human voice. Theseus even fan- 
cied a rude articulation in it, as if the creature that uttered it were 
trying to shape his hoarse breath into words. It was at some dis- 
tance, however, and he really could not tell whether it sounded 
most like a bull’s roar or a man’s harsh voice. 

“ That is the Minotaur’s noise,” whispered Ariadne, closely 
grasping the hand of Theseus, and pressing one of her own hands 
to her heart, which was all in a tremble. ‘‘ You must follow that 
sound through the windings of the labyrinth, and, by and by, you 
will find him. Stay! take the end of this silken string; I will 
hold the other end; and then, if you win the victory, it will lead 
you again to this spot. Farewell, brave Theseus.” 

So the young man took the end of the silken string in his left 
hand, and his gold-hilted sword, ready drawn from its scabbard, 
in the other, and trod boldly into the inscrutable labyrinth. How 
this labyrinth was built is more than I can tell you. But so cun- 
ningly contrived a mizmaze was never seen in the world, before 
nor since. There can be nothing else so intricate, unless it were 
the brain of a man like Dedalus, who planned it, or the heart of 
any ordinary man; which last, to be sure, is ten times as great a 
mystery as the labyrinth of Crete. Theseus had not taken five 
steps before he lost sight of Ariadne; and in five more his head 
was growing dizzy. But still he went on, now creeping through 
a low arch, now ascending a flight of steps, now in one crooked 
passage and now in another, with here a door opening before him, 
and there one banging behind, until it really seemed as if the 
walls spun round, and whirled him round along with them. And 

198 


THE MINOTAUR 


all the while, through these hollow avenues, now nearer, now far- 
ther off again, resounded the cry of the Minotaur; and the sound 
was so fierce, so cruel, so ugly, so like a bull’s roar, and withal so 
like a human voice, and yet like neither of them, that the brave 
heart of Theseus grew sterner and angrier at every step; for he 
felt it an insult to the moon and sky, and to our affectionate and 
simple Mother Earth, that such a monster should have the au- 
dacity to exist. 

As he passed onward, the clouds gathered over the moon, and 
the labyrinth grew so dusky that Theseus could no longer discern 
the bewilderment through which he was passing. He would have 
felt quite lost, and utterly hopeless of ever again walking in a 
straight path, if, every little while, he had not been conscious of a 
gentle twitch at the silken cord. Then he knew that the tender- 
hearted Ariadne was still holding the other end, and that she was 
fearing for him, and hoping for him, and giving him just as much 
of her sympathy as if she were close by his side. Oh, indeed, I can 
. assure you, there was a vast deal of human sympathy running 
along that slender thread of silk. But still he followed the dread- 
ful roar of the Minotaur, which now grew louder and louder, and 
finally so very loud that Theseus fully expected to come close 
upon him, at every new zigzag and wriggle of the path. And at 
last, in an open space, at the very centre of the labyrinth, he did 
discern the hideous creature. 

Sure enough, what an ugly monster it was! Only his horned 
head belonged to a bull; and yet, somehow or other, he looked like 
a bull all over, preposterously waddling on his hind legs; or, if 
you happened to view him in another way, he seemed wholly a 
man, and all the more monstrous for being so. And there he was, 
the wretched thing, with no society, no companion, no kind of a 
mate, living only to do mischief, and incapable of knowing what 
affection means. Theseus hated him, and shuddered at him, and 
yet could not but be sensible of some sort of pity; and all the more, 

199 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


the uglier and more detestable the creature was. For he kept 
striding to and fro in a solitary frenzy of rage, continually emit- 
ting a hoarse roar, which was oddly mixed up with half-shaped 
words; and, after listening awhile, Theseus understood that the 
Minotaur was saying to himself how miserable he was, and how 
hungry, and how he hated everybody, and how he longed to eat up 
the human race alive. 

Ah, the bull-headed villain! And O, my good little people, 
you will perhaps see, one of these days, as I do now, that every 
human being who suffers anything evil to get into his nature, or 
to remain there, is a kind of Minotaur, an enemy of his fellow- 
creatures, and separated from all good companionship, as this 
poor monster was. 

Was Theseus afraid? By no means, my dear auditors. What! — 
a hero like Theseus afraid! Not had the Minotaur had twenty 
bull heads instead of one. Bold as he was, however, I rather fancy 
that it strengthened his valiant heart, just at this crisis, to feel a 
tremulous twitch at the silken cord, which he was still holding in 
his left hand. It was as if Ariadne were giving him all her might 
and courage; and, much as he already had, and little as she had to 
give, it made his own seem twice as much. And to confess the 
honest truth, he needed the whole; for now the Minotaur, turning 
suddenly about, caught sight of Theseus, and instantly lowered 
his horribly sharp horns, exactly as a mad bull does when he means 
to rush against an enemy. At the same time, he belched forth a 
tremendous roar, in which there was something like the words of 
human language, but all disjointed and sheken to pieces by pass- 
ing through the gullet of a miserably enraged brute. 

Theseus could only guess what the creature intended to say, 
and that rather by his gestures than his words; for the Mino- 
taur’s horns were sharper than his wits, and of a great deal more 
service to him than his tongue. But probably this was the sense of 
what he uttered: — 

200 


THE MINOTAUR 


“ Ah, wretch of a human being! I ’Il stick my horns through 
you, and toss you fifty feet high, and eat you up the moment you 
come down.” 

“ Come on, then, and try it!” was all that Theseus deigned to 
reply; for he was far too magnanimous to assault his enemy with 
insolent language. 

Without more words on either side, there ensued the most awful 
fight between Theseus and the Minotaur that ever happened be- 
neath the sun or moon. I really know not how it might have 
turned out, if the monster, in his first headlong rush against The- 
seus, had not missed him, by a hair’s-breadth, and broken one of 
his horns short off against the stone wall. On this mishap, he bel- 
lowed so intolerably that a part of the labyrinth tumbled down, 
and all the inhabitants of Crete mistook the noise for an uncom- 
monly heavy thunder-storm. Smarting with the pain, he galloped 
around the open space in so ridiculous a way that Theseus laughed 
at it, long afterwards, though not precisely at the moment. After 
this, the two antagonists stood valiantly up to one another, and 
fought sword to horn, for a long while. At last, the Minotaur 
made a run at Theseus, grazed his left side with his horn, and 
flung him down; and thinking that he had stabbed him to the 
heart, he cut a great caper in the air, opened his bull mouth from 
ear to ear, and prepared to snap his head off. But Theseus by this 
time had leaped up, and caught the monster off his guard. Fetch- 
_ Ing a sword-stroke at him with all his force, he hit him fair upon 
the neck, and made his bull head skip six yards from his human 
body, which fell down flat upon the ground. 

So now the battle was ended. Immediately the moon shone 
out as brightly as if all the troubles of the world, and all the wick- 
edness and the ugliness that infest human life, were past and gone 
forever. And Theseus, as he leaned on his sword, taking breath, 
felt another twitch of the silken cord; for all through the terrible 
encounter he had held it fast in his left hand. Eager to let 

201 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


Ariadne know of his success, he followed the guidance of the 
thread, and soon found himself at the entrance of the labyrinth. 

“Thou hast slain the monster,” cried Ariadne, clasping her 
hands. 

“Thanks to thee, dear Ariadne,” answered Theseus, “I re- 
turn victorious.” 

“'Then,” said Ariadne, “we must quickly summon thy 
friends, and get them and thyself on board the vessel before 
dawn. If morning finds thee here, my father will avenge the 
Minotaur.” 

To make my story short, the poor captives were awakened, 
and, hardly knowing whether it was not a joyful dream, were told 
of what Theseus had done, and that they must set sail for Athens 
before daybreak. NH astening down to the vessel, they all clam- 
bered on board, except Prince Theseus, who lingered behind them, 
on the strand, holding Ariadne’s hand clasped in his own. 

“ Dear maiden,” said he, “ thou wilt surely go with us. Thou 
art too gentle and sweet a child for such an iron-hearted father 
as King Minos. He cares no more for thee than a granite rock 
cares for the little flower that grows in one of its crevices. But 
my father, King Aigeus, and my dear mother, A‘thra, and all the 
fathers and mothers in Athens, and all the sons and daughters too, 
will love and honor thee as their benefactress. Come with us, 
then; for King Minos will be very angry when he knows what 
thou hast done.” 

Now, some low-minded people, who pretend to tell the story 
of Theseus and Ariadne, have the face to say that this royal and 
honorable maiden did really flee away, under cover of the ni ght, 
with the young stranger whose life she had preserved. They say, 
too, that Prince Theseus (who would have died sooner than wrong 
the meanest creature in the world) ungratefully deserted Ariadne, 
on a solitary island, where the vessel touched on its voyage to 
Athens. But, had the noble Theseus heard these falsehoods, he 

202 


THE MINOTAUR 


would have served their slanderous authors as he served the Min- 
otaur! Here is what Ariadne answered, when the brave Prince 
of Athens besought her to accompany him: — 

“No, Theseus,” the maiden said, pressing his hand, and then 
drawing back a step or two, “ I cannot go with you. My father is 
old, and has nobody but myself to love him. Hard as you think 
his heart is, it would break to lose me. At first King Minos will 
be angry; but he will soon forgive his only child; and, by and by, 
he will rejoice, I know, that no more youths and maidens must 
come from Athens to be devoured by the Minotaur. I have saved 
you, Theseus, as much for my father’s sake as for your own. 
Farewell! Heaven bless you!” 

All this was so true, and so maiden-like, and was spoken with 
so sweet a dignity, that Theseus would have blushed to urge her 
any longer. Nothing remained for him, therefore, but to bid 
Ariadne an affectionate farewell, and go on board the vessel, and 
set sail. 

In a few moments the white foam was boiling up before their 
prow, as Prince Theseus and his companions sailed out of the har- 
bor with a whistling breeze behind them. Talus, the brazen giant, 
on his never-ceasing sentinel’s march, happened to be approaching 
that part of the coast; and they saw him, by the glimmering of the 
moonbeams on his polished surface, while he was yet a great way 
off. As the figure moved like clock-work, however, and could 
neither hasten his enormous strides nor retard them, he arrived at 
the port when they were just beyond the reach of his club. Nev- 
ertheless, straddling from headland to headland, as his custom 
was, Talus attempted to strike a blow at the vessel, and, overreach- 
ing himself, tumbled at full length into the sea, which splashed 
high over his gigantic shape, as when an iceberg turns a somerset. 
There he lies yet; and whoever desires to enrich himself by means 
of brass had better go thither with a diving-bell, and fish up 
Talus. 

203 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


On the homeward voyage, the fourteen youths and damsels 
were in excellent spirits, as you will easily suppose. They spent 
most of their time in dancing, unless when the sidelong breeze 
made the deck slope too much. In due season, they came within 
sight of the coast of Attica, which was their native country. But 
here, I am grieved to tell you, happened a sad misfortune. 

You will remember (what Theseus unfortunately forgot) that 
his father, King Ageus, had enjoined it upon him to hoist sun- 
shine sails, instead of black ones, in case he should overcome the 
Minotaur, and return victorious. In the joy of their success, how- 
ever, and amidst the sports, dancing, and other merriment, with 
which these young folks wore away the time, they never once 
thought whether their sails were black, white, or rainbow col- 
ored, and, indeed, left it entirely to the mariners whether they had 
any sails at all. Thus the vessel returned, like a raven, with the 
same sable wings that had wafted her away. But poor King 
Aigeus, day after day, infirm as he was, had clambered to the 
summit of a cliff that overhung the sea, and there sat watching for 
Prince Theseus, homeward bound; and no sooner did he behold 
the fatal blackness of the sails, than he concluded that his dear 
son, whom he loved so much, and felt so proud of, had been eaten 
by the Minotaur. He could not bear the thought of living any 
longer; so, first flinging his crown and sceptre into the sea, (use- 
Jess bawbles that they were to him now!) King Aijgeus merely 
stooped forward, and fell headlong over the cliff, and was 
drowned, poor soul, in the waves that foamed at its base! 

This was melancholy news for Prince Theseus, who, when he 
stepped ashore, found himself king of all the country, whether he 
would or no; and such a turn of fortune was enough to make any 
young man feel very much out of spirits. However, he sent for 
his dear mother to Athens, and, by taking her advice in matters of 
state, became a very excellent monarch, and was greatly beloved 
by his: people. 

204 


The Pygmies 


GREAT while ago, when the world was full of wonders, 

A there lived an earth-born Giant named Antzus, and a 
million or more of curious little earth-born people, who 

were called Pygmies. This Giant and these Pygmies being chil- 
dren of the same mother (that is to say, our good old Grandmother 
Earth), were all brethren and dwelt together in a very friendly 
and affectionate manner, far, far off, in the middle of hot Africa. 
The Pygmies were so small, and there were so many sandy deserts 
and such high mountains between them and the rest of mankind, 
that nobody could get a peep at them oftener than once in a 
hundred years. As for the Giant, being of a very lofty stature, 
it was easy enough to see him, but safest to keep out of his sight. 
Among the Pygmies, I suppose, if one of them grew to the 
height of six or eight inches, he was reckoned a prodigiously tall 
man. It must have been very pretty to behold their little cities, 
with streets two or three feet wide, paved with the smallest pebbles, 
and bordered by habitations about as big as a squirrel’s cage. 
The king’s palace attained to the stupendous magnitude of Peri- 
winkle’s baby-house, and stood in the centre of a spacious square, 
which could hardly have been covered by our hearth-rug. Their 
principal temple, or cathedral, was as lofty as yonder bureau, and 
was looked upon as a wonderfully sublime and magnificent edifice. 
All these structures were built neither of stone nor wood. They 
were neatly plastered together by the Pygmy workmen, pretty 
much like bird’s-nests, out of straw, feathers, eggshells, and other 

205 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


small bits of stuff, with stiff clay instead of mortar; and when the 
hot sun had dried them, they were just as snug and comfortable 
as a Pygmy could desire. 

The country round about was conveniently laid out in fields, 
the largest of which was nearly of the same extent as one of 
Sweet Fern’s flower-beds. Here the Pygmies used to plant wheat 
and other kinds of grain, which, when it grew up and ripened, over- 
shadowed these tiny people, as the pines, and the oaks, and the 
walnut and chestnut-trees overshadow you and me, when we walk 
in our own tracts of woodland. At harvest-time, they were forced 
to go with their little axes and cut down the grain, exactly as a 
wood-cutter makes a clearing in the forest; and when a stalk of 
wheat, with its overburdened top, chanced to come crashing down 
upon an unfortunate Pygmy, it was apt to be a very sad affair. 
If it did not smash him all to pieces, at least, I am sure, it must 
have made the poor little fellow’s head ache. And oh, my stars! 
if the fathers and mothers were so small, what must the children 
and babies have been? A whole family of them might have been 
put to bed in a shoe, or have crept into an old glove, and played at 
hide-and-seek in its thumb and fingers. You might have hidden a 
year-old baby under a thimble. 

Now these funny Pygmies, as I told you before, had a Giant 
for their neighbor and brother, who was bigger, if possible, than 
they were little. He was so very tall that he carried a pine-tree, 
which was eight feet through the but, for a walking-stick. It 
took a far-sighted Pygmy, I can assure you, to discern his summit 
without the help of a telescope; and sometimes, in misty weather, 
they could not see his upper half, but only his long legs, which 
seemed to be striding about by themselves. But at noonday, in a 
clear atmosphere, when the sun shone brightly over him, the Giant 
Anteus presented a very grand spectacle. There he used to stand, 
a perfect mountain of a man, with his great countenance smiling 
down upon his little brothers, and his one vast eye (which was as 

206 


THE PYGMIES 


big as a cart-wheel, and placed right in the centre of his fore- 
head) giving a friendly wink to the whole nation at once. 

The Pygmies loved to talk with Anteus; and fifty times a day, 
one or another of them would turn up his head, and shout through 
the hollow of his fists, “ Halloo, brother Antzus! How are you, 
my good fellow?” and when the small, distant squeak of their 
voices reached his ear, the Giant would make answer, “ Pretty 
well, brother Pygmy, I thank you,” in a thunderous roar that 
would have shaken down the walls of their strongest temple, only 
that it came from so far aloft. 

It was a happy circumstance that Antwus was the Pygmy — 
people’s friend; for there was more strength in his little finger 
than in ten million of such bodies as theirs. If he had been as ill- 
natured to them as he was to everybody else, he might have beaten 
down their biggest city at one kick, and hardly have known that he 
did it. With the tornado of his breath, he could have stripped the 
roofs from a hundred dwellings, and sent thousands of the in- 
habitants whirling through the air. He might have set his im- 
mense foot upon a multitude; and when he took it up again, there 
would have been a pitiful sight, to be sure. But, being the son of 
Mother Earth, as they likewise were, the Giant gave them his 
brotherly kindness, and loved them with as big a love as it was 
possible to feel for creatures so very small. And, on their parts, 
the Pygmies loved Antzus with as much affection as their tiny 
hearts could hold. He was always ready to do them any good 
offices that lay in his power; as, for example, when they wanted 
a breeze to turn their windmills, the Giant would set all the sails 
a-going with the mere natural respiration of his lungs. When the 
sun was too hot, he often sat himself down, and let his shadow fall 
over the kingdom, from one frontier to the other; and as for mat- 
ters in general, he was wise enough to let them alone, and leave 
the Pygmies to manage their own affairs, — which, after all, is 
about the best thing that great people can do for little ones. 

207 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


In short, as I said before, Anteus loved the Pygmies, and the 
Pygmies loved Anteus. The Giant’s life being as long as his 
body was large, while the lifetime of a Pygmy was but a span, this 
friendly intercourse had been going on for innumerable genera- 
tions and ages. It was written about in the Pygmy histories, and 
talked about in their ancient traditions. The most venerable and 
white-bearded Pygmy had never heard of a time, even in his 
greatest of grandfather’s days, when the Giant was not their 
enormous friend. Once, to be sure (as was recorded on an obe- 
lisk, three feet high, erected on the place of the catastrophe), 
Anteus sat down upon about five thousand Pygmies, who were 
assembled at a military review. But this was one of those un- 
lucky accidents for which nobody is to blame; so that the small 
folks never took it to heart, and only requested the Giant to be 
careful forever afterwards to examine the acre of ground where 
he intended to squat himself. 

It is a very pleasant picture to imagine Anteus standing 
among the Pygmies, like the spire of the tallest cathedral that ever 
was built, while they ran about like pismires at his feet; and to 
think that, in spite of their difference in size, there were affection 
and sympathy between them and him! Indeed, it has always 
seemed to me that the Giant needed the little people more than the 
Pygmies needed the Giant. For, unless they had been his neigh- 
bors and wellwishers, and, as we may say, his playfellows, Anteus 
would not have had a single friend in the world. No other being 
like himself had ever been created. No creature of his own size 
had ever talked with him, in thunder-like accents, face to face. 
When he stood with his head among the clouds, he was quite 
alone, and had been so for hundreds of years, and would be so for- 
ever. ven if he had met another Giant, Anteus would have 
fancied the world not big enough for two such vast personages, 
and, instead of being friends with him, would have fought him 
till one of the two was killed. But with the Pygmies he was 

208 


THE PYGMIES 


the most sportive, and humorous, and merry-hearted, and sweet- 
tempered old Giant that ever washed his face in a wet cloud. 

His little friends, like all other small people, had a great opin- 
ion of their own importance, and used to assume quite a patroniz- 
ing air towards the Giant. 

“ Poor creature!” they said one to another. “ He has a very 
dull time of it, all by himself; and we ought not to grudge wast- 
ing a little of our precious time to amuse him. He is not half so 
bright as we are, to be sure; and, for that reason, he needs us to 
look after his comfort and happiness. Let us be kind to the old 
fellow. Why, if Mother Earth had not been very kind to our- 
selves, we might all have been Giants too.” 

On all their holidays, the Pygmies had excellent sport with 
Anteus. He often stretched himself out at full length on the 
ground, where he looked like the long ridge of a hill; and it was 
a good hour’s walk, no doubt, for a short-legged Pygmy to jour- 
ney from head to foot of the Giant. He would lay down his great 
hand flat on the grass, and challenge the tallest of them to clamber 
upon it, and straddle from finger to finger. So fearless were 
they, that they made nothing of creeping in among the folds of his 
garments. When his head lay sidewise on the earth, they would 
march boldly up, and peep into the great cavern of his mouth, and 
take it all as a joke, (as indeed it was meant) when Antzus gave 
a sudden snap with his jaws, as if he were going to swallow fifty 
of them at once. You would have laughed to see the children 
dodging in and out among his hair, or swinging from his beard. 
It is impossible to tell half of the funny tricks that they played 
with their huge comrade; but I do not know that anything was 
more curious than when a party of boys were seen running races 
on his forehead, to try which of them could get first round the 
circle of his one great eye. It was another favorite feat with them 
to march along the bridge of his nose, and jump down upon his 
upper lip. 

14 209 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


If the truth must be told, they were sometimes as troublesome 
to the Giant as a swarm of ants or mosquitoes, especially as they 
had a fondness for mischief, and liked to prick his skin with their 
little swords and lances, to see how thick and tough it was. But 
Anteus took it all kindly enough; although, once in a while, when 
he happened to be sleepy, he would grumble out a peevish word 
or two, like the muttering of a tempest, and ask them to have done 
with their nonsense. A great deal oftener, however, he watched 
their merriment and gambols until his huge, heavy, clumsy wits 
were completely stirred up by them; and then would he roar out 
such a tremendous volume of immeasurable laughter, that the 
whole nation of Pygmies had to put their hands to their ears, 
else it would certainly have deafened them. 

“Ho! ho! ho!” quoth the Giant, shaking his moun- 
tainous sides. ‘“‘ What a funny thing it is to be little! If I were 
not Anteus, I should like to be a pygmy, just for the joke’s 
sake.” 

The Pygmies had but one thing to trouble them in the world. 
They were constantly at war with the cranes, and had always 
been so, ever since the long-lived giant could remember. From 
time to time very terrible battles had been fought, in which some- 
times the little men won the victory, and sometimes the cranes. 
According to some historians, the Pygmies used to go to the 
battle, mounted on the backs of goats and rams; but such animals 
as these must have been far too big for Pygmies to ride upon; so 
that, I rather suppose, they rode on squirrel-back, or rabbit-back, 
or rat-back, or perhaps got upon hedgehogs, whose prickly quills 
would be very terrible to the enemy. However this might be, and 
whatever creatures the Pygmies rode upon, I do not doubt that 
they made a formidable appearance, armed with sword and spear, 
and bow and arrow, blowing their tiny trumpet, and shouting their 
little war-cry. They never failed to exhort one another to fight 
bravely, and recollect that the world had its eyes upon them; al- 

210 


THE PYGMIES 


though, in simple truth, the only spectator was the Giant Antzus, 
with his one, great, stupid eye, in the middle of his forehead. 

When the two armies joined battle, the cranes would rush for- 
ward, flapping their wings and stretching out their necks, and 
would perhaps snatch up some of the Pygmies crosswise in their 
beaks. Whenever this happened, it was truly an awful spectacle 
to see those little men of might kicking and sprawling in the air, 
and at last disappearing down the crane’s long, crooked throat, 
swallowed up alive. A hero, you know, must hold himself in 
readiness for any kind of fate; and doubtless the glory of the 
thing was a consolation to him, even in the crane’s gizzard. If 
Anteus observed that the battle was going hard against his little 
allies, he generally stopped laughing, and ran with mile-long 
strides to their assistance, flourishing his club aloft and shouting 
at the cranes, who quacked and croaked, and retreated as fast as 
they could. Then the Pygmy army would march homeward in 
triumph, attributing the victory entirely to their own valor, and 
to the warlike skill and strategy of whomsoever happened to be 
captain general; and for a tedious while afterwards, nothing 
would be heard of but grand processions, and public banquets, 
and brilliant illuminations, and shows of waxwork, with like- 
nesses of the distinguished officers as small as life. 

In the above-described warfare, if a Pygmy chanced to pluck 
out a crane’s tail-feather, it proved a very great feather in his cap. 
Once or twice, if you will believe me, a little man was made chief 
ruler of the nation for no other merit in the world than bringing 
home such a feather. 

But I have now said enough to let you see what a gallant little 
people these were, and how happily they and their forefathers, for 
nobody knows how many generations, had lived with the immeas- 
urable Giant Anteus. In the remaining part of the story, I shall 
tell you of a far more astonishing battle than any that was fought 
between the Pygmies and the cranes. 

211 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


One day the mighty Antzus was lolling at full length among 
his little friends. His pine-tree walking-stick lay on the ground 
close by his side. His head was in one part of the kingdom, and his 
feet extended across the boundaries of another part; and he was 
taking whatever comfort he could get, while the Pygmies scram- 
bled over him, and peeped into his cavernous mouth, and played 
among his hair. Sometimes, for a minute or two, the Giant 
dropped asleep, and snored like the rush of a whirlwind. During 
one of these little bits of slumber, a Pygmy chanced to climb upon 
his shoulder, and took a view around the horizon, as from the sum- 
mit of a hill; and he beheld something, a long way off, which made 
him rub the bright specks of his eyes, and look sharper than be- 
fore. At first he mistook it for a mountain, and wondered how it 
had grown up so suddenly out of the earth. But soon he saw the 
mountain move. As it came nearer and nearer, what should it 
turn out to be but a human shape, not so big as Antezus, it is true, 
although a very enormous figure, in comparison with Pygmies, 
and a vast deal bigger than the men whom we see nowadays. 

When the Pygmy was quite satisfied that his eyes had not de- 
ceived him, he scampered, as fast as his legs would carry him, to 
the Giant’s ear, and stooping over its cavity, shouted lustily into 
it, — 

“ Halloo, brother Anteus! Get up this minute, and take your 
pine-tree walking-stick in your hand. Here comes another Giant 
to have a tussle with you.” 

“Poh, poh!” grumbled Anteus, only half awake, “ None of 
your nonsense, my little fellow! Don’t you see I’m sleepy. 
There is not a Giant on earth for whom I would take the trouble 
to get up.” 

But the Pygmy looked again, and now perceived that the 
stranger was coming directly towards the prostrate form of An- 
teus. With every step he looked less like a blue mountain, and 
more like an immensely large man. He was soon so nigh, that 

212 


THE PYGMIES 


there could be no possible mistake about the matter. There he 
was, with the sun flaming on his golden helmet, and flashing from 
his polished breastplate; he had a sword by his side, and a lion’s 
, skin over his back, and on his right shoulder he carried a club, 
which looked bulkier and heavier than the pine-tree walking- 
stick of Antzeus. 

By this time, the whole nation of Pygmies had seen the new 
wonder, and a million of them set up a shout, all together; so that 
it really made quite an audible squeak. 

“ Get up, Anteus! Bestir yourself, you lazy old Giant! Here 
comes another Giant, as strong as you are, to fight with you.” 

“Nonsense, nonsense!” growled the sleepy Giant. “Ill 
have my nap out.” 

Still the stranger drew nearer; and now the Pygmies could 
plainly discern that if his stature were less lofty than the Giant’s, 
yet his shoulders were even broader. And, in truth, what a pair of 
shoulders they must have been! As I told you, a long while ago, 
they once upheld the sky. The Pygmies, being ten times as viva- 
cious as their great numskull of a brother, could not abide the 
Giant’s slow movements, and were determined to have him on his 
feet. So they kept shouting to him, and even went so far as to 
prick him with their swords. 

“Get up, get up, get up!” they cried. “Up with you, lazy 
bones! The strange Giant’s club is bigger than your own, his 
shoulders are the broadest, and we think him the stronger of the 
two.” 

Anteus could not endure to have it said that any mortal was 
half so mighty as himself. This latter remark of the Pygmies 
pricked him deeper than their swords; and, sitting up, in rather a 
sulky humor, he gave a gape of several yards wide, rubbed his eye, 
and finally turned his stupid head in the direction whither his little 
friends were eagerly pointing. 

No sooner did he set eye on the stranger than, leaping on his 

213 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


feet, and seizing his walking-stick, he strode a mile or two to meet 
him; all the while brandishing the sturdy pine-tree, so that it whis- 
tled through the air. 

“Who are you?” thundered the Giant. “And what do you 
want in my dominions? ” 

There was one strange thing about Antzus, of which I have 
not yet told you, lest, hearing of so many wonders all in a lump, 
you might not believe much more than half of them. You are to 
know, then, that whenever this redoubtable Giant touched the 
ground, either with his hand, his foot, or any other part of his 
body, he grew stronger than ever he had been before. The Earth, 
you remember, was his mother, and was very fond of him, as being 
almost the biggest of her children; and so she took this method of 
keeping him always in full vigor. Some persons affirm that he 
grew ten times stronger at every touch; others say that it was 
only twice as strong. But only think of it! Whenever Antezus 
took a walk, supposing it were but ten miles, and that he stepped 
a hundred yards at a stride, you may try to cipher out how much 
mightier he was, on sitting down again, than when he first started. 
And whenever he flung himself on the earth to take a little repose, 
even if he got up the very next instant, he would be as strong as 
exactly ten just such giants as his former self. It was well for the 
world that Antzeus happened to be of a sluggish disposition, and 
liked ease better than exercise; for, if he had frisked about like 
the Pygmies, and touched the earth as often as they did, he would 
long ago have been strong enough to pull down the sky about 
people’s ears. But these great lubberly fellows resemble moun- 
tains, not only in bulk, but in their disinclination to move. 

Any other mortal man, except the very one whom Antzus had 
now encountered, would have been half frightened to death by the 
Giant’s ferocious aspect and terrible voice. But the stranger did 
not seem at all disturbed. He carelessly lifted his club, and bal- 
anced it in his hand, measuring Antzus with his eye from head to 

214 


THE PYGMIES 


foot, not as if wonder-smitten at his stature, but as if he had seen 
a great many Giants before, and this was by no means the biggest 
of them. In fact, if the Giant had been no bigger than the Pyg- 
mies (who stood pricking up their ears, and looking and listening 
to what was going forward), the stranger could not have been less 
afraid of him. 

“ Who are you, I say?” roared Anteus again. “ What ’s your 
name? Why do you come hither? Speak, you vagabond, or I ’Il 
try the thickness of your skull with my walking-stick.” 

“ You are a very discourteous Giant,” answered the stranger, 
quietly, “and I shall probably have to teach you a little civility, 
before we part. As for my name, it is Hercules. I have come 
hither because this is my most convenient road to the garden of the 
Hesperides, whither I am going to get three of the golden apples 
for King Eurystheus.” 

“ Caitiff, you shall go no farther!” bellowed Anteus, putting 
on a grimmer look than before; for he had heard of the mighty 
Hercules, and hated him because he was said to be so strong. 
“ Neither shall you go back whence you came! ” 

“ How will you prevent me,” asked Hercules, “from going 
whither I please? ” 

“ By hitting you a rap with this pine-tree here,” shouted An- 
tzus, scowling so that he made himself the ugliest monster in 
Africa. “I am fifty times stronger than you; and, now that I 
stamp my foot upon the ground, I am five hundred times 
stronger! I am ashamed to kill such a puny little dwarf as you 
seem to be. I will make a slave of you, and you shall likewise be 
the slave of my brethren, here, the Pygmies. So throw down your 
club and your other weapons; and as for that lion’s skin, I intend 
to have a pair of gloves made of it.” 

“ Come and take it off my shoulders, then,” answered Her- 
cules, lifting his club. 

Then the Giant, grinning with rage, strode towerlike towards 

215 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


the stranger (ten times strengthened at every step), and fetched 
a monstrous blow at him with his pine-tree, which Hercules caught 
upon his club; and being more skilful than Antzus, he paid him 
back such a rap upon the sconce, that down tumbled the great 
lumbering man-mountain, flat upon the ground. The poor little 
Pygmies (who really never dreamed that anybody in the world 
was half so strong as their brother Antzus) were a good deal dis- 
mayed at this. But no sooner was the Giant down, than up he 
bounced again, with tenfold might, and such a furious visage as 
was horrible to behold. He aimed another blow at Hercules, but 
struck awry, being blinded with wrath, and only hit his poor, inno- 
cent Mother Earth, who groaned and trembled at the stroke. His 
pine-tree went so deep into the ground, and stuck there so fast, 
that before Antzus could get it out, Hercules brought down his 
club across his shoulders with a mighty thwack, which made the 
Giant roar as if all sorts of intolerable noises had come screeching 
and rumbling out of his immeasurable lungs in that one cry. 
Away it went, over mountains and valleys, and, for aught I know, 
was heard on the other side of the African deserts. 

As for the Pygmies, their capital city was laid in ruins by the 
concussion and vibration of the air; and, though there was uproar 
enough without their help, they all set up a shriek out of three 
millions of little throats, fancying, no doubt, that they swelled the 
Giant’s bellow by at least ten times as much. Meanwhile, Anteus 
had scrambled upon his feet again, and pulled his pine-tree out of 
the earth; and, all a-flame with fury, and more outrageously 
strong than ever, he ran at Hercules, and brought down another 
blow. 

“This time, rascal,” shouted he, “ you shall not escape me.” 

But once more Hercules warded off the stroke with his club, 
and the Giant’s pine-tree was shattered into a thousand splinters, 
most of which flew among the Pygmies, and did them more mis- 
chief than I like to think about. Before Antzus could get out of 

216 


THE PYGMIES 


the way, Hercules let drive again, and gave him another knock- 
down blow, which sent him heels over head, but served only to 
increase his already enormous and insufferable strength. As for 
his rage, there is no telling what a fiery furnace it had now got to 
be. His one eye was nothing but a circle of red flame. Having 
now no weapons but his fists, he doubled them up (each bigger 
than a hogshead), smote one against the other, and danced up and 
down with absolute frenzy, flourishing his immense arms about, as 
if he meant not merely to kill Hercules, but to smash the whole 
world to pieces. 

“Come on!” roared this thundering Giant. “ Let me hit you 
but one box on the ear, and you'll never have the headache 
again.” 

Now Hercules (though strong enough, as you already know, 
to hold the sky up) began to be sensible that he should never win 
the victory, if he kept on knocking Anteus down; for, by and by, 
if he hit him such hard blows, the Giant would inevitably, by the 
help of his Mother Earth, become stronger than the mighty Her- 
cules himself. So, throwing down his club, with which he had 
fought so many dreadful battles, the hero stood ready to receive his 
antagonist with naked arms. 

“ Step forward,” cried he. “ Since I ’ve broken your pine-tree, 
we ‘ll try which is the better man at a wrestling-match.” 

“ Aha! then I'll soon satisfy you,” shouted the Giant; for, 
if there was one thing on which he prided himself more than an- 
other, it was his skill in wrestling. “ Villain, I ’ll fling you where 
you can never pick yourself up again.” 

On came Anteus, hopping and capering with the scorching 
heat of his rage, and getting new vigor wherewith to wreak his 
passion every time he hopped. But Hercules, you must under- 
stand, was wiser than this numskull of a Giant, and had thought 
of a way to fight him,— huge, earth-born monster that he was,— 
and to conquer him too, in spite of all that his Mother Earth 

217 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


could do for him. Watching his opportunity, as the mad Giant 
made a rush at him, Hercules caught him round the middle 
with both hands, lifted him high into the air, and held him aloft 
overhead. 

Just imagine it, my dear little friends! What a spectacle it 
must have been, to see this monstrous fellow sprawling in the 
air, face downward, kicking out his long legs and wriggling his 
whole vast body, like a baby when its father holds it at arm’s- 
length toward the ceiling. 

But the most wonderful thing was, that, as soon as Antzeus 
was fairly off the earth, he began to lose the vigor which he had 
gained by touching it. Hercules very soon perceived that his 
troublesome enemy was growing weaker, both because he strug- 
gled and kicked with less violence, and because the thunder of his 
big voice subsided into a grumble. The truth was, that, unless 
the Giant touched Mother Earth as often as once in five minutes, 
not only his overgrown strength, but the very breath of his life, 
would depart from him. Hercules had guessed this secret; and 
it may be well for us all to remember it, in case we should ever have 
to fight a battle with a fellow like Antzus. For these earth-born 
creatures are only difficult to conquer on their own ground, but 
may easily be managed if we can contrive to lift them into a 
loftier and purer region. So it proved with the poor Giant, whom 
I am really sorry for, notwithstanding his uncivil way of treat- 
ing strangers who came to visit him. 

When his strength and breath were quite gone, Hercules gave 
his huge body a toss, and flung it about a mile off, where it fell 
heavily, and lay with no more motion than a sand-hill. It was too 
late for the Giant’s Mother Earth to help him now; and I should 
not wonder if his ponderous bones were lying on the same spot to 
this very day, and were mistaken for those of an uncommonly 
large elephant. 

But, alas me! What a wailing did the poor little Pygmies set 

218 


THE PYGMIES 


up when they saw their enormous brother treated in this terrible 
manner! If Hercules heard their shrieks, however, he took no no- 
tice, and perhaps fancied them only the shrill, plaintive twitter- 
ing of small birds that had been frightened from their nests by 
the uproar of the battle between himself and Anteus. Indeed, his 
thoughts had been so much taken up with the Giant, that he had 
never once looked at the Pygmies, nor even knew that there was 
such a funny little nation in the world. And now, as he had trav- 
elled a good way, and was also rather weary with his exertions in 
the fight, he spread out his lion’s skin on the ground, and reclining 
himself upon it, fell fast asleep. 

As soon as the Pygmies saw Hercules preparing for a nap, 
they nodded their little heads at one another, and winked with 
their little eyes. And when his deep, regular breathing gave 
them notice that he was asleep, they assembled together in an im- 
mense crowd, spreading over a space of about twenty-seven feet 
square. One of their most eloquent orators (and a valiant warrior. 
enough, besides, though hardly so good at any other weapon as he 
was with his tongue) climbed upon a toadstool, and, from that ele- 
vated position, addressed the multitude. His sentiments were 
pretty much as follows; or, at all events, something like this was 
probably the upshot of his speech: — 

“Tall Pygmies and mighty little men! You and all of us 
have seen what a public calamity has been brought to pass, and 
what an insult has here been offered to the majesty of our nation. 
Yonder lies Antzus, our great friend and brother, slain, within 
our territory, by a miscreant who took him at disadvantage, and 
fought him (if fighting it can be called) in a way that neither 
man, nor Giant, nor Pygmy ever dreamed of fighting until this 
hour. And, adding a grievous contumely to the wrong already 
done us, the miscreant has now fallen asleep as quietly as if noth- 
ing were to be dreaded from our wrath! It behooves you, fellow- 
countrymen, to consider in what aspect we shall stand before the 

219 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


world, and what will be the verdict of impartial history, should we 
suffer these accumulated outrages to go unavenged. © 

“ Antezus was our brother, born of that same beloved parent 
to whom we owe the thews and sinews, as well as the courageous 
hearts, which made him proud of our relationship. He was our 
faithful ally, and fell fighting as much for our national rights and 
immunities as for his own personal ones. We and our forefathers 
have dwelt in friendship with him, and held affectionate inter- 
course, as man to man, through immemorial generations. You 
remember how often our entire people have reposed in his great 
shadow, and how our little ones have played at hide-and-seek in 
the tangles of his hair, and how his mighty footsteps have famil- 
iarly gone to and fro among us, and never trodden upon any of 
our toes. And there lies this dear brother, — this sweet and 
amiable friend, — this brave and faithful ally, —this virtuous 
Giant, — this blameless and excellent Antzus,— dead! Dead! 
Silent! Powerless! A mere mountain of clay! Forgive my 
tears! Nay, I behold your own! Were we to drown the world 
with them, could the world blame us? 

But to resume: Shall we, my countrymen, suffer this wicked 
stranger to depart unharmed, and triumph in his treacherous vic- 
tory, among distant communities of the earth? Shall we not 
rather compel him to leave his bones here on our soil, by the side of 
our slain brother’s bones, so that, while one skeleton shall remain 
as the everlasting monument of our sorrow, the other shall endure 
as long, exhibiting to the whole human race a terrible example of 
Pygmy vengeance? Such is the question. I put it to you in full 
confidence of a response that shall be worthy of our national char- 
acter, and calculated to increase, rather than diminish, the glory 
which our ancestors have transmitted to us, and which we our- 
selves have proudly vindicated in our welfare with the cranes.” 

The orator was here interrupted by a burst of irrepressible 
enthusiasm; every individual Pygmy crying out that the national 

220 


THE PYGMIES 


honor must be preserved at all hazards. He bowed, and making 
a gesture for silence, wound up his harangue in the following 
admirable manner: — 

“Tt only remains for us, then, to decide whether we shall 
carry on the war in our national capacity, — one united people 
against a common enemy, — or whether some champion, famous 
in former fights, shall be selected to defy the slayer of our brother 
Anteus to single combat. In the latter case, though not uncon- 
scious that there may be taller men among you, I hereby offer my- 
self for that enviable duty. And, believe me, dear countrymen, 
whether I live or die, the honor of this great country, and the fame 
bequeathed us by our heroic progenitors, shall suffer no diminu- 
tion in my hands. Never, while I can wield this sword, of which I 
now fling away the scabbard, — never, never, never, even if the 
crimson hand that slew the great Antzus shall lay me prostrate, 
like him, on the soil which I give my life to defend.” 

So saying, this valiant Pygmy drew out his weapon (which was 
terrible to behold, being as long as the blade of a penknife), and 
sent the scabbard whirling over the heads of the multitude. His 
speech was followed by an uproar of applause, as its patriotism 
and self-devotion unquestionably deserved; and the shouts and 
clapping of hands would have been greatly prolonged had they 
not been rendered quite inaudible by a deep respiration, vulgarly 
called a snore, from the sleeping Hercules. 

It was finally decided that the whole nation of Pygmies should 
set to work to destroy Hercules; not, be it understood, from any 
doubt that a single champion would be capable of putting him to 
the sword, but because he was a public enemy, and all were desirous 
of sharing in the glory of his defeat. There was a debate whether 
the national honor did not demand that a herald should be sent 
with a trumpet, to stand over the ear of Hercules, and, after blow- 
ing a blast right into it, to defy him to the combat by formal proc- 
lamation. But two or three venerable and sagacious Pygmies, 

221 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


well versed in state affairs, gave it as their opinion that war al- 
ready existed, and that it was their rightful privilege to take the 
enemy by surprise. Moreover, if awakened, and allowed to get 
upon his feet, Hercules might happen to do them a mischief before 
he could be beaten down again. For, as these sage counsellors re- 
marked, the stranger’s club was really very big, and had rattled 
like a thunderbolt against the skull of Anteus. So the Pygmies 
resolved to set aside all foolish punctilios, and assail their antag- 
onist at once. 

Accordingly, all the fighting men of the nation took their 
weapons, and went boldly up to Hercules, who still lay fast asleep, 
httle dreaming of the harm which the Pygmies meant to do him. 
A body of twenty thousand archers marched in front, with their 
little bows all ready, and the arrows on the string. The same num- 
ber were ordered to clamber upon Hercules, some with spades to 
dig his eyes out, and others with bundles of hay, and all manner of 
rubbish, with which they intended to plug up his mouth and nos- 
trils, so that he might perish for lack of breath. These last, how- 
ever, could by no means perform their appointed duty; inasmuch 
as the enemy’s breath rushed out of his nose in an obstreperous 
hurricane and whirlwind, which blew the Pygmies away as fast as 
they came nigh. It was found necessary, therefore, to hit upon 
some other method of carrying on the war. 

After holding a council, the captains ordered their troops to 
collect sticks, straws, dry weeds, and whatever combustible stuff 
they could find, and make a pile of it, heaping it high around the 
head of Hercules. As a great many thousand Pygmies were em- 
ployed in this task, they soon brought together several bushels of 
inflammatory matter, and raised so tall a heap, that, mounting on 
its summit, they were quite upon a level with the sleeper’s face. 
The archers, meanwhile, were stationed within bow-shot, with 
orders to let fly at Hercules the instant that he stirred. Every- 
thing being in readiness, a torch was applied to the pile, which im- 

222 


THE PYGMIES 


mediately burst into flames, and soon waxed hot enough to roast 
the enemy, had he but chosen to lie still. A Pygmy, you know, 
though so very small, might set the world on fire, just as easily as 
a Giant could; so that this was certainly the very best way of 
dealing with their foe, provided they could have kept him quiet 
while the conflagration was going forward. 

But no sooner did Hercules begin to be scorched, than up 
he started, with his hair in a red blaze. 

‘What ’s all this?’ he cried, bewildered with sleep, and star- 
ing about him as if he expected to see another Giant. 

At that moment the twenty thousand archers twanged their 
bowstrings, and the arrows came whizzing, like so many winged 
mosquitoes, right into the face of Hercules. But I doubt whether 
more than half a dozen of them punctured the skin, which was re- 
markably tough, as you know the skin of a hero has good need 
to be. 

“ Villain!’ shouted all the Pygmies at once. “ You have 
killed the Giant Antezus, our great brother, and the ally of our 
nation. We declare bloody war against you and will slay you on 
the spot.” 

Surprised at the shrill piping of so many little voices, Her- 
cules, after putting out the conflagration of his hair, gazed all 
round about, but could see nothing. At last, however, looking 
narrowly on the ground, he espied the innumerable assemblage of 
Pygmies at his feet. He stooped down, and taking up the nearest 
one between his thumb and finger, set him on the palm of his left 
hand, and held him at a proper distance for examination. It 
chanced to be the very identical Pygmy who had spoken from the 
top of the toadstool, and had offered himself as a champion to 
meet Hercules in single combat. 

‘What in the world, my little fellow,” ejaculated Hercules, 
‘“‘may you be?” 

“T am your enemy,” answered the valiant Pygmy, in his 

223 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


mightiest squeak. ‘“‘ You have slain the enormous Antzus, our 
brother by the mother’s side, and for ages the faithful ally of our 
illustrious nation. We are determined to put you to death; and 
for my own part, I challenge you to instant battle, on equal 
ground.” 

Hercules was so tickled with the Pygmy’s big words and war- 
like gestures, that he burst into a great explosion of laughter, and 
almost dropped the poor little mite of a creature off the palm of 
his hand, through the ecstasy and convulsion of his merriment. 

“Upon my word,” cried he, “I thought I had seen wonders 
before to-day, — hydras with nine heads, stags with golden horns, 
six-legged men, three-headed dogs, giants with furnaces in their 
stomachs, and nobody knows what besides. But here, on the palm 
of my hand, stands a wonder that outdoes them all! Your body, 
my little friend, is about the size of an ordinary man’s finger. 
Pray, how big may your soul be?” 

“ As big as your own!” said the Pygmy. 

Hercules was touched with the little man’s dauntless courage, 
and could not help acknowledging such a brotherhood with him as 
one hero feels for another. 

“My good little people,” said he, making a low obeisance to 
the grand nation, “ not for all the world would I do an intentional 
injury to such brave fellows as you! Your hearts seem to me so 
exceedingly great, that, upon my honor, I marvel how your small 
bodies can contain them. I sue for peace, and, as a condition of it, 
will take five strides, and be out of your kingdom at the sixth. 
Good-by. I shall pick my steps carefully, for fear of treading 
upon some fifty of you, without knowing it. Ha, ha, ha! Ho, 
ho, ho! For once, Hercules acknowledges himself vanquished.” 

Some writers say, that Hercules gathered up the whole race of 
Pygmies in his lion’s skin, and carried them home to Greece, for 
the children of King Eurystheus to play with. But this is a mis- 
take. He left them, one and all, within their own territory, where, 

224, 


THE PYGMIES 


for aught I can tell, their descendants are alive to the present day, 
building their little houses, cultivating their little fields, spanking 
their little children, waging their little warfare with the cranes, 
doing their little business, whatever it may be, and reading their 
little histories of ancient times. In those histories, perhaps, it 
stands recorded, that, a great many centuries ago, the valiant 
Pygmies avenged the death of the Giant Antezus by scaring away 
the mighty Hercules. 


225 


The Dragon’s Teeth 


ADMUS, Pheenix, and Cilix, the three sons of King Age- 
nor, and their little sister Europa (who was a very beau- 
tiful child) were at play together, near the seashore, in their 

father’s kingdom of Pheenicia. They had rambled to some dis- 
tance from the palace where their parents dwelt, and were 
now in a verdant meadow, on one side of which lay the sea, all 
sparkling and dimpling in the sunshine, and murmuring gently 
against the beach. The three boys were very happy, gathering 
flowers, and twining them into garlands, with which they adorned 
the little Europa. Seated on the grass, the child was almost hid- 
den under an abundance of buds and blossoms, whence her rosy 
face peeped merrily out, and, as Cadmus said, was the prettiest 
of all the flowers. 

Just then, there came a splendid butterfly, fluttering along the 
meadow; and Cadmus, Pheenix, and Cilix set off in pursuit of it, 
crying out that it was a flower with wings. Europa, who was a 
little wearied with playing all day long, did not chase the butter- 
fly with her brothers, but sat still where they had left her, and 
closed her eyes. For a while, she listened to the pleasant murmur 
of the sea, which was like a voice saying “ Hush!” and bidding 
her go to sleep. But the pretty child, if she slept at all, could not 
have slept more than a moment, when she heard something tram- 
ple on the grass, not far from her, and peeping out from the heap 
of flowers, beheld a snow-white bull. 

And whence could this bull have come? Europa and her 
brothers had been a long time playing in the meadow, and had 

226 














THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


seen no cattle, nor other living thing, either there or on the neigh- 
boring hills. 

“Brother Cadmus!” cried Europa, starting up out of the 
midst of the roses and lilies. ‘“ Phoenix! Cilix! Where are you 
all? Help! Help! Come and drive away this bull!” 

But her brothers were too far off to hear; especially as the 
fright took away Europa’s voice, and hindered her from calling 
very loudly. So there she stood, with her pretty mouth wide open, 
as pale as the white lilies that were twisted among the other flow- 
ers in her garlands. 

Nevertheless, it was the suddenness with which she had per- 
ceived the bull, rather than anything frightful in his appearance, 
that caused Europa so much alarm. On looking at him more at- 
tentively, she began to see that he was a beautiful animal, and even 
fancied a particularly amiable expression in his face. As for his 
breath, — the breath of cattle, you know, is always sweet, — it 
was as fragrant as if he had been grazing on no other food than 
rosebuds, or, at least, the most delicate of clover-blossoms. Never 
before did a bull have such bright and tender eyes, and such smooth 
horns of ivory, as this one. And the bull ran little races, and 
capered sportively around the child; so that she quite forgot how 
big and strong he was, and, from the gentleness and playfulness 
of his actions, soon came to consider him as innocent a creature as 
a pet lamb. 

Thus, frightened as she at first was, you might by and by have 
seen Europa stroking the bull’s forehead with her small white 
hand, and taking the garlands off her own head to hang them on 
his neck and ivory horns. Then she pulled up some blades of 
grass, and he ate them out of her hand, not as if he were hungry, 
but because he wanted to be friends with the child, and took pleas- 
ure in eating what she had touched. Well, my stars! was there 
ever such a gentle, sweet, pretty, and amiable creature as this bull, 
and ever such a nice playmate for a little girl? 

227 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


When the animal saw (for the bull had so much intelligence 
that it is really wonderful to think of), when he saw that Europa 
was no longer afraid of him, he grew overjoyed, and could hardly 
contain himself for delight. He frisked about the meadow, now 
here, now there, making sprightly leaps, with as little effort as a 
bird expends in hopping from twig to twig. Indeed, his motion 
was as light as if he were flying through the air, and his hoofs 
seemed hardly to leave their print in the grassy soil over which he 
trod. With his spotless hue, he resembled a snow-drift, wafted 
along by the wind. Once he galloped so far away that Europa 
feared lest she might never see him again; so, setting up her 
childish voice, she called him back. 

“Come back, pretty creature!” she cried. ‘“ Here is a nice 
clover-blossom.”’ 

And then it was delightful to witness the gratitude of this 
amiable bull, and how he was so full of Joy and thankfulness that 
he capered higher than ever. He came running, and bowed 
his head before Europa, as if he knew her to be a king’s daughter, 
or else recognized the important truth that a little girl is every- 
body’s queen. -And not only did the bull bend his neck, he abso- 
lutely knelt down at her feet, and made such intelligent nods, and 
other inviting gestures, that Europa understood what he meant 
just as well as if he had put it in so many words. 

“Come, dear child,” was what he wanted to say, “let me give 
you a ride on my back.” 

At the first thought of such a thing, Europa drew back. But 
then she considered in her wise little head that there could be no 
possible harm in taking just one gallop on the back of this docile 
and friendly animal, who would certainly set her down the very 
instant she desired it. And how it would surprise her brothers to 
see her riding across the green meadow! -And what merry times 
they might have, either taking turns for a gallop, or clambering 
on the gentle creature, all four children together, and careering 

228 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


round the field with shouts of laughter that would be heard as far 
off as King Agenor’s palace! 

“T think I will do it,” said the child to herself. 

And, indeed, why not? She cast a glance around, and caught 
a glimpse of Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, who were still in pur- 
suit of the butterfly, almost at the other end of the meadow. It 
would be the quickest way of rejoining them, to get upon the white 
bull’s back. She came a step nearer to him, therefore; and — 
sociable creature that he was— he showed so much joy at this 
mark of her confidence, that the child could not find it in her heart 
to hesitate any longer. Making one bound (for this little prin- 
cess was as active as a squirrel), there sat Kuropa on the beau- 
tiful bull, holding an ivory horn in each hand, lest she should 
fall off. 

“Softly, pretty bull, softly!” she said, rather frightened at 
what she had done. “ Do not gallop too fast.” 

Having got the child on his back, the animal gave a leap into 
the air, and came down so like a feather that Europa did not know 
when his hoofs touched the ground. He then began a race to 
that part of the flowery plain where her three brothers were, and 
where they had just caught their splendid butterfly. Europa 
screamed with delight; and Phoenix, Cilix, and Cadmus stood 
gaping at the spectacle of their sister mounted on a white bull, not 
knowing whether to be frightened or to wish the same good 
luck for themselves. The gentle and innocent creature (for who 
could possibly doubt that he was so?) pranced round among the 
children as sportively as a kitten. Europa all the while looked 
down upon her brothers, nodding and laughing, but yet with a sort 
of stateliness in her rosy little face. As the bull wheeled about to 
take another gallop across the meadow, the child waved her hand, 
and said, “Good-by,” playfully pretending that she was now 
bound on a distant journey, and might not see her brothers again 
for nobody could tell how long. 

229 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


“ Good-by,” shouted Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, all in one 
breath. 

But, together with her enjoyment of the sport, there was still 
a little remnant of fear in the child’s heart; so that her last look 
at the three boys was a troubled one, and made them feel as if their 
dear sister were really leaving them forever. And what do you 
think the snowy bull did next? Why, he set off, as swift as the 
wind, straight down to the sea-shore, scampered across the sand, 
took an airy leap, and plunged right in among the foaming bil- 
lows. The white spray rose in a shower over him and little EKu- 
ropa, and fell spattering down upon the water. 

Then what a scream of terror did the poor child send forth! 
The three brothers screamed manfully, likewise, and ran to the 
shore as fast as their legs would carry them, with Cadmus at their 
head. But it was too late. When they reached the margin of the 
sand, the treacherous animal was already far away in the wide 
blue sea, with only his snowy head and tail emerging, and poor 
little Europa between them, stretching out one hand towards 
her dear brothers, while she grasped the bull’s ivory horn with the 
other. And there stood Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, gazing at 
this sad spectacle, through their tears, until they could no longer 
distinguish the bull’s snowy head from the white-capped billows 
that seemed to boil up out of the sea’s depths around him. Noth- 
ing more was ever seen of the white bull, — nothing more of the 
beautiful child. 

This was a mournful story, as you may well think, for the three 
boys to carry home to their parents. King Agenor, their father, 
was the ruler of the whole country; but he loved his little daughter 
Europa better than his kingdom, or than all his other children, 
or than anything else in the world. Therefore, when Cadmus 
and his two brothers came crying home, and told him how that a 
white bull had carried off their sister, and swam with her over the 
sea, the king was quite beside himself with grief and rage. Al- 

230 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


though it was now twilight, and fast growing dark, he bade them 
set out-instantly in search of her. 

“Never shall you see my face again,” he cried, “ unless you 
bring me back my little Europa, to gladden me with her smiles 
and her pretty ways. Begone, and enter my presence no more, 
till you come leading her by the hand.” 

As King Agenor said this, his eyes flashed fire (for he was a 
very passionate king), and he looked so terribly angry that the 
poor boys did not even venture to ask for their suppers, but slunk 
away out of the palace, and only paused on the steps a moment to 
consult whither they should go first. While they were standing 
there all in dismay, their mother, Queen Telephassa (who hap- 
pened not to be by when they told the story to the king), came 
hurrying after them, and said that she too would go in quest of 
her daughter. 

“ Oh no, mother!” cried the boys. “ The night is dark, and 
there is no knowing what troubles and perils we may meet with.” 

‘Alas! my dear children,” answered poor Queen Telephassa, 
weeping bitterly, “that is only another reason why I should go 
with you. If I should lose you, too, as well as my little Europa, 
what would become of me?” 

“« And let me go likewise!” said their playfellow Thasus, who 
came running to join them. 

Thasus was the son of a seafaring person in the neighbor- 
hood; he had been brought up with the young princes, and was 
their intimate friend, and loved Europa very much; so they con- 
sented that he should accompany them. The whole party, there- 
fore, set forth together; Cadmus, Phoenix, Cilix, and Thasus 
clustered round Queen Telephassa, grasping her skirts, and beg- 
ging her to lean upon their shoulders whenever she felt weary. 
In this manner they went down the palace steps, and began a jour- 
ney which turned out to be a great deal longer than they dreamed 
of. The last that they saw of King Agenor, he came to the door, 

231 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


with a servant holding a torch beside him, and called after them 
into the gathering darkness: — 

“Remember! Never ascend these steps again without the 
child!” 

“Never!” sobbed Queen Telephassa; and the three brothers 
and Thasus answered, “Never! Never! Never! Never!” 

And they kept their word. Year after year King Agenor sat 
in the solitude of his beautiful palace, listening in vain for their 
returning footsteps, hoping to hear the familiar voice of the queen, 
and the cheerful talk of his sons and their playfellow Thasus, en- 
tering the door together, and the sweet, childish accents of little 
Europa in the midst of them. But so long a time went by, that, 
at last, if they had really come, the king would not have known 
that this was the voice of 'Telephassa, and these the younger voices 
that used to make such joyful echoes when the children were 
playing about the palace. We must now leave King Agenor to 
sit on his throne, and must go along with Queen Telephassa and 
her four youthful companions. 

They went on and on, and travelled a long way, and passed 
over mountains and rivers, and sailed over seas. Here, and there, 
and everywhere, they made continual inquiry if any person could 
tell them what had become of Europa. The rustic people, of 
whom they asked this question, paused a little while from their 
labors in the field, and looked very much surprised. They thought 
it strange to behold a woman in the garb of a queen (for Tele- 
phassa, in her haste, had forgotten to take off her crown and her 
royal robes), roaming about the country, with four lads around 
her, on such an errand as this seemed to be. But nobody could 
give them any tidings of Europa; nobody had seen a little girl 
dressed like a princess, and mounted on a snow-white bull, which 
galloped as swiftly as the wind. 

I cannot tell you how long Queen Telephassa, and Cadmus, 
Phoenix, and Cilix, her three sons, and Thasus, their playfellow, 

232 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


went wandering along the highways and bypaths, or through the 
pathless wildernesses of the earth, in this manner. But certain it 
is, that, before they reached any place of rest, their splendid gar- 
ments were quite worn out. They all looked very much travel- 
stained, and would have had the dust of many countries on their 
shoes, if the streams, through which they had waded, had not 
washed it all away. When they had been gone a year, Telephassa 
threw away her crown, because it chafed her forehead. 

“It has given me many a headache,” said the poor queen, 
“and it cannot cure my heartache.” 

As fast as their princely robes got torn and tattered, they ex- 

changed them for such mean attire as ordinary people wore. By 
and by they came to have a wild and homeless aspect; so that you 
would sooner have taken them for a gypsy family than a queen 
and three princes and a young nobleman, who had once a palace 
for their home, and a train of servants to do their bidding. The 
four boys grew up to be tall young men, with sunburnt faces. 
Each of them girded on a sword, to defend themselves against 
the perils of the way. When the husbandmen, at whose farm- 
houses they sought hospitality, needed their assistance in the 
harvest-field, they gave it willingly; and Queen Telephassa (who 
had done no work in her palace, save to braid silk threads with 
. golden ones) came behind them to bind the sheaves. If payment 
was Offered, they shook their heads, and only asked for tidings of 
’ Kuropa. 
“There are bulls enough in my pasture,” the old farmer would 
_ reply; “but I never heard of one like this you tell me of. A 
snow-white bull with a little princess on his back! Ho! ho! I 
ask your pardon, good folks; but there was never such a sight 
seen hereabouts.” 

At last, when his upper lip began to have the down on it, 
Phoenix grew weary of rambling hither and thither to no purpose. 
So, one day, when they happened to be passing through a pleas- 

233 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


ant and solitary tract of country, he sat himself down on a heap 
of moss. 

“TI can go no farther,” said Phoenix. “It is a mere foolish 
waste of life, to spend it, as we do, in always wandering up and 
down, and never coming to any home at nightfall. Our sister 
is lost, and never will be found. She probably perished in the sea; 
or, to whatever shore the white bull may have carried her; it is 
now so many years ago, that there would be neither love nor ac- 
quaintance between us should we meet again. My father has for- 
bidden us to return to his palace; so I shall build me a hut of 
branches, and dwell here.” 

“ Well, son Phoenix,” said Telephassa, sorrowfully, “ you have 
grown to be a man, and must do as you judge best. But, for my 
part, I will still go in quest of my poor child.” 

“ And we three will go along with you!” cried Cadmus and 
Cilix, and their faithful friend Thasus. 

But, before setting out, they all helped Phoenix to build a hab- 
itation. When completed, it was a sweet rural bower, roofed over- 
head with an arch of living boughs. Inside there were two pleas- 
ant rooms, one of which had a soft heap of moss for a bed, while 
the other was furnished with a rustic seat or two, curiously fash- 
ioned out of the crooked roots of trees. So comfortable and home- 
like did it seem, that Telephassa and her three companions could 
not help sighing, to think that they must still roam about the 
world, instead of spending the remainder of their lives in some 
such cheerful abode as they had here built for Phoenix. But, 
when they bade him farewell, Phoenix shed tears, and probably 
regretted that he was no longer to keep them company. 

However, he had fixed upon an admirable place to dwell in. 
And by and by there came other people, who chanced to have no 
homes; and, seeing how pleasant a spot it was, they built them- 
selves huts in the neighborhood of Phoenix’s habitation. Thus, 
before many years went by, a city had grown up there, in the centre 

234 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


of which was seen a stately palace of marble, wherein dwelt Phoe- 
nix, clothed in a purple robe, and wearing a golden crown upon his 
head. For the inhabitants of the new city, finding that he had 
royal blood in his veins, had chosen him to be their king. ‘The 
very first decree of state which King Phoenix issued was, that if a 
maiden happened to arrive in the kingdom, mounted on a snow- 
white bull, and calling herself Kuropa, his subjects should treat 
her with the greatest kindness and respect, and immediately bring 
her to the palace. You may see, by this, that Phoenix’s conscience 
never quite ceased to trouble him, for giving up the quest of his 
dear sister, and sitting himself down to be comfortable, while his 
mother and her companions went onward. 

But often and often, at the close of a weary day’s journey, 
did Telephassa and Cadmus, Cilix and Thasus, remember the 
pleasant spot in which they had left Phoenix. It was a sorrowful 
prospect for these wanderers, that on the morrow they must again 
set forth, and that, after many nightfalls, they would perhaps be 
no nearer the close of their toilsome pilgrimage than now. These 
thoughts made them all melancholy at times, but appeared to tor- 
ment Cilix more than the rest of the party. At length, one morn- 
ing, when they were taking their staffs in hand to set out, he thus 
addressed them: — : 

“My dear mother, and you good brother Cadmus, and my 
friend Thasus, methinks we are like people in a dream. There is 
no substance in the life which we are leading. It is such a dreary 
length of time since the white bull carried off my sister Europa, 
that I have quite forgotten how she looked, and the tones of her 
voice, and, indeed, almost doubt whether such a little girl ever lived 
in the world. And whether she once lived or no, I am convinced 
that she no longer survives, and that therefore it is the merest folly 
to waste our own lives and happiness in seeking her. Were we 
to find her, she would now be a woman grown, and would look 
upon us all as strangers. So, to tell you the truth, I have resolved 

235 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


to take up my abode here; and I entreat you, mother, brother, 
and friend, to follow my example.” 

“Not I, for one,” said Telephassa; although the poor queen, 
firmly as she spoke, was so travel-worn that she could hardly put 
her foot to the ground, — “not I, for one! In the depths of my 
heart, little Europa is still the rosy child who ran to gather flowers 
so many years ago. She has not grown to womanhood, nor for- 
gotten me. At noon, at night, journeying onward, sitting down 
to rest, her childish voice is always in my ears, calling, ‘ Mother! 
mother!’ Stop here who may, there is no repose for me.” 

“ Nor for me,” said Cadmus, “ while my dear mother pleases to 
go onward.” 

And the faithful Thasus, too, was resolved to bear them com- 
pany. They remained with Cilix a few days, however, and helped 
him to build a rustic bower, resembling the one which they had for- 
merly built for Phoenix. 

When they were bidding him farewell, Cilix burst into tears, 
and told his mother that it seemed just as melancholy a dream to 
stay there, in solitude, as to go onward. If she really believed that 
they would ever find Europa, he was willing to continue the search 
with them, even now. But Telephassa bade him remain there, and 
be happy, if his own heart would let him. So the pilgrims took 
their leave of him, and departed, and were hardly out of sight be- 
fore some other wandering people came along that way, and saw 
Cilix’s habitation, and were greatly delighted with the appearance 
of the place. There being abundance of unoccupied ground in the 
neighborhood, these strangers built huts for themselves, and were 
soon joined by a multitude of new settlers, who quickly formed a 
city. In the middle of it was seen a magnificent palace of colored 
marble, on the balcony of which, every noontide, appeared Cilix, 
in a long purple robe, and with a jewelled crown upon his head; 
for the inhabitants, when they found out that he was a king’s son, 
had considered him the fittest of all men to be a king himself. 

236 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


One of the first acts of King Cilix’s government was to send out 
an expedition, consisting of a grave ambassador and an escort 
of bold and hardy young men, with orders to visit the principal 
kingdoms of the earth, and inquire whether a young maiden had 
passed through those regions, galloping swiftly on a white bull. 
It is, therefore, plain to my mind, that Cilix secretly blamed him- 
self for giving up the search for Europa, as long as he was able 
to put one foot before the other. 

As for Telephassa, and Cadmus, and the good Thasus, it 
grieves me to think of them, still keeping up that weary pilgrim- 
age. The two young men did their best for the poor queen, help- 
ing her over the rough places often carrying her across rivulets in 
their faithful arms, and seeking to shelter her at nightfall, even 
when they themselves lay on the ground. Sad, sad it was to hear 
them asking of every passer-by if he had seen Europa, so long 
after the white bull had carried her away. But, though the gray 
years thrust themselves between, and made the child’s figure dim 
in their remembrance, neither of these true-hearted three ever 
dreamed of giving up the search. 

One morning, however, poor Thasus found that he had 
sprained his ankle, and could not possibly go a step farther. 

“ After a few days, to be sure,” said he, mournfully, “ I might 
make shift to hobble along with a stick. But that would only 
delay you, and perhaps hinder you from finding dear little 
Europa, after all your pains and trouble. Do you go forward, 
therefore, my beloved companions, and leave me to follow as I 
may.” 

“ Thou hast been a true friend, dear Thasus,” said Queen Tele- 
phassa, kissing his forehead. “ Being neither my son, nor the 
brother of our lost Kuropa, thou hast shown thyself truer to me 
and her than Phoenix and Cilix did, whom we have left behind us. 
Without thy loving help, and that of my son Cadmus, my limbs 
could not have borne me half so far as this. Now, take thy rest, 

237 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


and be at peace. For — and it is the first time I have owned it to 
myself — I begin to question whether we shall ever find my be- 
loved daughter in this world.” 

Saying this, the poor queen shed tears, because it was a griev- 
ous trial to the mother’s heart to confess that her hopes were grow- 
ing faint. From that day forward, Cadmus noticed that she never 
travelled with the same alacrity of spirit that had heretofore sup- 
ported her. Her weight was heavier upon his arm. 

Before setting out, Cadmus helped Thasus build a bower: 
while Telephassa, being too infirm to give any great assistance, ad- 
vised them how to fit it up and furnish it, so that it might be as 
comfortable as a hut of branches could. Thasus, however, did not 
spend all his days in this green bower. For it happened to him, as 
to Phoenix and Cilix, that other homeless people visited the spot 
and liked it, and built themselves habitations in the neighborhood. 
So here, in the course of a few years, was another thriving city 
with a red freestone palace in the centre of it, where Thasus sat 
upon a throne, doing justice to the people, with a purple robe over 
his shoulders, a sceptre in his hand, and a crown upon his head. 
The inhabitants had made him king, not for the sake of any royal 
blood (for none was in his veins), but because Thasus was an 
upright, true-hearted, and courageous man, and therefore fit to 
rule. 

But, when the affairs of his kingdom were all settled, King 
Thasus laid aside his purple robe, and crown, and sceptre, and 
bade his worthiest subject distribute justice to the people in his 
stead. Then, grasping the pilgrim’s staff that had supported him 
so long, he set forth again, hoping still to discover some hoof- 
mark of the snow-white bull, some trace of the vanished child. 
He returned, after a lengthened absence, and sat down wearily 
upon his throne. To his latest hour, nevertheless, King Thasus 
showed his true-hearted remembrance of Europa, by ordering 
that a fire should always be kept burning in his palace, and a 

238 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


bath steaming hot, and food ready to be served up, and a bed with 
snow-white sheets, in case the maiden should arrive, and require 
immediate refreshment. And though Europa never came, the 
good Thasus had the blessings of many a poor traveller, who 
profited by the food and lodging which were meant for the little 
playmate of the king’s boyhood. 

Telephassa and Cadmus were now pursuing their weary way, 
with no companion but each other. The queen leaned heavily upon 
her son’s arm, and could walk only a few miles a day. But for all 
her weakness and weariness, she would not be persuaded to give 
up the search. It was enough to bring tears into the eyes of 
bearded men to hear the melancholy tone with which she in- 
quired of every stranger whether he could tell her any news of 
the lost child. 

“Have you seen a little girl—no, no, I mean a young 
maiden of full growth — passing by this way, mounted on a 
snow-white bull, which gallops as swiftly as the wind?” 

“We have seen no such wondrous sight,” the people would re- 
ply; and very often, taking Cadmus aside, they whispered to him, 
“Ts this stately and sad-looking woman your mother? Surely she 
is not in her right mind; and you ought to take her home, and 
make her comfortable, and do your best to get this dream out of 
her fancy.” 

“It is no dream,” said Cadmus. “ Everything else is a dream, 
save that.” 

But, one day, Telephassa seemed feebler than usual, and 
leaned almost her whole weight on the arm of Cadmus, and walked 
more slowly than ever before. At last they reached a solitary spot, 
where she told her son that she must needs lie down, and take a 
good, long rest. 

“A good, long rest!” she repeated, looking Cadmus ten- 
derly in the face, — “a good, long rest, thou dearest one!” 

“As long as you please, dear mother,” answered Cadmus. 

239 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


Telephassa bade him sit down on the turf beside her, and then 
she took his hand. 

“ My son,” said she, fixing her dim eyes most lovingly upon 
him, “ this rest that I speak of will be very long indeed! You must 
not wait till it is finished. Dear Cadmus, you do not comprehend 
me. You must make a grave here, and lay your mother’s weary 
frame into it. My pilgrimage is over.” 

Cadmus burst into tears, and, for a long time, refused to 
believe that his dear mother was now to be taken from him. But 
Telephassa reasoned with him, and kissed him, and at length 
made him discern that it was better for her spirit to pass away 
out of the toil, the weariness, the grief, and disappointment which 
had burdened her on earth, ever since the child was lost. He 
therefore repressed his sorrow and listened to her last words. 

“ Dearest Cadmus,” said she, ‘“‘ thou hast been the truest son 
that mother ever had, and faithful to the last. Who else would 
have borne with my infirmities as thou hast! It is owing to thy 
care, thou tenderest child, that my grave was not dug long years 
ago, in some valley, or on some hill-side, that lies far, far behind 
us. It is enough. Thou shalt wander no more on this hopeless 
search. But when thou hast laid thy mother in the earth, then go, 
my son, to Delphi, and inquire of the oracle what thou shalt do 
next. 

“O mother, mother,” cried Cadmus, “ couldst thou but have 
seen my sister before this hour! ” 

“ It matters little now,” answered Telephassa, and there was 
a smile upon her face. “I go to the better world, and, sooner 
or later, shall find my daughter there.” 

I will not sadden you, my little hearers, with telling how 
Telephassa died and was buried, but will only say, that her dying 
smile grew brighter, instead of vanishing from her dead face; so 
that Cadmus felt convinced that, at her very first step into the 
better world, she had caught Europa in her arms. He planted 

240 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


some flowers on his mother’s grave, and left them to grow there, 
and make the place beautiful, when he should be far away. 

After performing this last sorrowful duty, he set forth alone, 
and took the road towards the famous oracle of Delphi, as Tele- 
phassa had advised him. On his way thither, he still inquired of 
most people whom he met whether they had seen Europa; for, to 
say the truth, Cadmus had grown so accustomed to ask the ques- 
tion, that it came to his lips as readily as a remark about the 
weather. He received various answers. Some told him one thing, 
and some another. Among the rest, a mariner affirmed, that, many 
years before, in a distant country, he had heard a rumor about a 
white bull, which came swimming across the sea with a child on 
his back, dressed up in flowers that were blighted by the sea-water. 
He did not know what had become of the child or the bull; and 
Cadmus suspected, indeed, by a queer twinkle in the mariner’s 
eyes, that he was putting a joke upon him, and had never really 
heard anything about the matter. 

Poor Cadmus found it more wearisome to travel alone than to 
bear all his dear mother’s weight while she had kept him company. 
His heart, you will understand, was now so heavy that it seemed 
impossible, sometimes, to carry it any farther. But his limbs were 
strong and active, and well accustomed to exercise. He walked 
swiftly along, thinking of King Agenor and Queen Telephassa, 
and his brothers, and the friendly Thasus, all of whom he had 
left behind him, at one point of his pilgrimage or another, and 
never expected to see them any more. Full of these remem- 
brances, he came within sight of a lofty mountain, which the peo- 
ple thereabouts told him was called Parnassus. On the slope of 
Mount Parnassus was the famous Delphi, whither Cadmus was 
going. 

This Delphi was supposed to be the very midmost spot of the 
whole world. The place of the oracle was a certain cavity in the 
mountain-side, over which, when Cadmus came thither, he found 

16 241 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


a rude bower of branches. It reminded him of those which he 
had helped to build for Phoenix and Cilix, and afterwards for 
Thasus. In later times, when multitudes of people came from 
great distances to put questions to the oracle, a spacious temple 
of marble was erected over the spot. But in the days of Cadmus, 
as I have told you, there was only this rustic bower, with its 
abundance of green foliage, and a tuft of shrubbery, that ran 
wild over the mysterious hole in the hill-side. 

When Cadmus had thrust a passage through the tangled 
boughs, and made his way into the bower, he did not at first discern 
the half-hidden cavity. But soon he felt a cold stream of air 
rushing out of it, with so much force that it shook the ringlets on 
his cheek. Pulling away the shrubbery which clustered over the 
hole, he bent forward, and spoke in a distinct but reverential 
tone, as if addressing some unseen personage inside of the 
mountain. 

“ Sacred oracle of Delphi,” said he, “ whither shall I go next 
in quest of my dear sister Europa?” 

There was at first a deep silence, and then a rushing sound, or 
a noise like a long sigh, proceeding out of the interior of the earth. 
This cavity, you must know, was looked upon as a sort of fountain 
of truth, which sometimes gushed out in audible words; al- 
though, for the most part, these words were such a riddle that 
they might just as well have stayed at the bottom of the hole. 
But Cadmus was more fortunate than many others who went to 
Delphi in search of truth. By and by, the rushing noise began 
to sound like articulate language. It repeated, over and over 
again, the following sentence, which, after all, was so like the 
vague whistle of a blast of air, that Cadmus really did not quite 
know whether it meant anything or not: — 

‘“ Seek her no more! Seek her no more! Seek her no more! ” 

“What, then, shall I do?” asked Cadmus. 

For, ever since he was a child, you know, it had been the great 

242 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


object of his life to find his sister. From the very hour that he left 
following the butterfly in the meadow, near his father’s palace, he 
had done his best to follow Europa, over land and sea. And 
now, if he must give up the search, he seemed to have no more busi- 
ness in the world. 

But again the sighing gust of air grew into something like a 
hoarse voice. 

“ Follow the cow!” it said. “ Follow the cow! Follow the 
cow!” | 

And when these words had been repeated until Cadmus was 
tired of hearing them (especially as he could not imagine what cow 
it was, or why he was to follow her), the gusty hole gave vent to 
another sentence. 

“Where the stray cow lies down, there is your home.” 

These words were pronounced but a single time, and died 
away into a whisper before Cadmus was fully satisfied that he 
had caught the meaning. He put other questions, but received 
no answer; only the gust of wind sighed continually out of the 
cavity, and blew the withered leaves rustling along the ground 
before it. 

“ Did there really come any words out of the hole?” thought 
Cadmus; “or have I been dreaming all this while? ” 

He turned away from the oracle, and thought himself no 
wiser than when he came thither. Caring little what might hap- 
pen to him, he took the first path that offered itself, and went 
along at a sluggish pace; for, having no object in view, nor any 
reason to go one way more than another, it would certainly have 
been foolish to make haste. Whenever he met anybody, the old 
question was at his tongue’s end: — 

“Have you seen a beautiful maiden, dressed like a king’s 
daughter, and mounted on a snow-white bull, that gallops as 
swiftly as the wind?” 

But, remembering what the oracle had said, he only half ut- 

243 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


tered the words, and then mumbled the rest indistinctly; and 
from his confusion, people must have imagined that this handsome 
young man had lost his wits. 

I know not how far Cadmus had gone, nor could he himself 
have told you, when, at no great distance before him, he beheld a 
brindled cow. She was lying down by the wayside, and quietly 
chewing her cud; nor did she’ take any notice of the young man 
until he had approached pretty nigh. Then, getting leisurely 
upon her feet, and giving her head a gentle toss, she began to 
move along at a moderate pace, often pausing just long enough 
to crop a mouthful of grass. Cadmus loitered behind, whistling 
idly to himself, and scarcely noticing the cow; until the thought 
occurred to him, whether this could possibly be the animal which, 
according to the oracle’s response, was to serve him for a guide. 
But he smiled at himself for fancying such a thing. He could 
not seriously think that this was the cow, because she went along 
so quietly, behaving just like any other cow. Evidently she 
neither knew nor cared so much as a wisp of hay about Cadmus, 
and was only thinking how to get her living along the wayside, 
where the herbage was green and fresh. Perhaps she was going 
home to be milked. 

“Cow, cow, cow!” cried Cadmus. “ Hey, Brindle, hey! 
Stop, my good cow.” 

He wanted to come up with the cow, so as to examine her, and 
see if she would appear to know him, or whether there were any 
peculiarities to distinguish her from a thousand other cows, whose 
only business is to fill the milk-pail, and sometimes kick it over. 
But still the brindled cow trudged on, whisking her tail to keep 
the flies away, and taking as little notice of Cadmus as she well 
could. If he walked slowly, so did the cow, and seized the oppor- 
tunity to graze. If he quickened his pace, the cow went just so 
much the faster; and once, when Cadmus tried to catch her by 
running, she threw out her heels, stuck her tail straight on end, and 

24.4 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


set off at a gallop, looking as queerly as cows generally do, while 
putting themselves to their speed. 

When Cadmus saw that it was impossible to come up with 
her, he walked on moderately, as before. The cow, too, went 
leisurely on, without looking behind. Wherever the grass was 
greenest, there she nibbled a mouthful or two. Where a brook 
glistened brightly across the path, there the cow drank, and 
breathed a comfortable sigh, and drank again, and trudged on- 
ward at the pace that best suited herself and Cadmus. 

“I do believe,” thought Cadmus, “that this may be the cow 
that was foretold me. If it be the one, I suppose she will lie down 
somewhere hereabouts.” 

Whether it were the oracular cow or some other one, it did 
not seem reasonable that she should travel a great way farther. 
So, whenever they reached a particularly pleasant spot on a 
breezy hill-side, or in a sheltered vale, or flowery meadow, on 
the shore of a calm lake, or along the bank of a clear stream, 
Cadmus looked eagerly around to see if the situation would suit 
him for a home. But still, whether he liked the place or no, the 
brindled cow never offered to lie down. On she went at the quiet 
pace of a cow going homeward to the barn-yard; and, every 
moment, Cadmus expected to see a milkmaid approaching with 
a pail, or a herdsman running to head the stray animal, and 
turn her back towards the pasture. But no milkmaid came; no 
herdsman drove her back; and Cadmus followed the stray Brin- 
dle till he was almost ready to drop down with fatigue. 

“O brindled cow,” cried he, in a tone of despair, “do you 
never mean to stop?” | 

He had now grown too intent on following her to think of 
lagging behind, however long the way, and whatever might be 
his fatigue. Indeed, it seemed as if there were something about 
the animal that bewitched people. Several persons who happened 
to see the brindled cow, and Cadmus following behind, began to 

245 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


trudge after her, precisely as he did. Cadmus was glad of some- 
body to converse with, and therefore talked very freely to these 
good people. He told them all his adventures, and how he had 
left King Agenor in his palace, and Phoenix at one place, and 
Cilix at another, and Thasus at a third, and his dear mother, 
Queen Telephassa, under a flowery sod; so that now he was 
quite alone, both friendless and homeless. He mentioned, like- 
wise, that the oracle had bidden him be guided by a cow, and in- 
quired of the strangers whether they supposed that this brindled 
animal could be the one. 

“Why, ’t is a very wonderful affair,” answered one of his new 
companions. “JI am pretty well acquainted with the ways of 
cattle, and I never knew a cow, of her own accord, to go so far 
without stopping. If my legs will let me, I ’ll never leave follow- 
ing the beast till she lies down.” 

“Nor I!” said a second. 

“Nor I!” cried a third. “If she goes a hundred miles far- 
ther, I ’m determined to see the end of it.” 

The secret of it was, you must know, that the cow was an en- 
chanted cow, and that, without their being conscious of it, she 
threw some of her enchantment over everybody that took so 
much as half a dozen steps behind her. They could not possibly 
help following her, though, all the time, they fancied themselves 
doing it of their own accord. The cow was by no means very 
nice in choosing her path; so that sometimes they had to scramble 
over rocks, or wade through mud and mire, and were all in a 
terribly bedraggled condition, and tired to death, and very hun- 
gry, into the bargain. What a weary business it was! 

But still they kept trudging stoutly forward, and talking as 
they went. The strangers grew very fond of Cadmus, and re- 
solved never to leave him, but to help him build a city wherever 
the cow might lie down. In the centre of it there should be a 
noble palace, in which Cadmus might dwell, and be their king, 

246 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


with a_ throne, a crown and sceptre, a purple robe, and every- 
thing else that a king ought to have; for in him there was the 
royal blood, and the royal heart, and the head that knew how 
to rule. 

While they were talking of these schemes, and beguiling the 
tediousness of the way with laying out the plan of the new city, 
one of the company happened to look at the cow. 

“Joy! joy!” eried he, clapping his hands. “ Brindle is go- 
ing to he down.” 

They all looked; and, sure enough, the cow had stopped, and 
was staring leisurely about her, as other cows do when on the 
point of lying down. And slowly, slowly did she recline herself 
on the soft grass, first bending her fore legs, and then crouching 
her hind ones. When Cadmus and his companions came up with 
her, there was the brindled cow taking her ease, chewing her cud, 
and looking them quietly in the face; as if this was just the spot 
she had been seeking for, and as if it were all a matter of course. 

“This, then,” said Cadmus, gazing around him, “ this is to be 
my home.” 

It was a fertile and lovely plain, with great trees flinging 
their sun-speckled shadows over it, and hills fencing it in from 
the rough weather. At no great distance, they beheld a river 
gleaming in the sunshine. A home feeling stole into the heart of 
poor Cadmus. He was very glad to know that here he might 
awake in the morning, without the necessity of putting on his 
dusty sandals to travel farther and farther. The days and the 
years would pass over him, and find him still in this pleasant spot. 
If he could have had his brothers with him, and his friend Thasus, 
and could have seen his dear mother under a roof of his own, he 
might here have been happy, after all their disappointments. 
Some day or other, too, his sister Europa might have come quietly 
to the door of his home, and smiled round upon the familiar faces. 
But, indeed, since there was no hope of regaining the friends of 

24:7 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


his boyhood, or ever seeing his dear sister again, Cadmus re- 
solved to make himself happy with these new companions, who 
had grown so fond of him while following the cow. 

“Yes, my friends,” said he to them, “ this is to be our home. 
Here we will build our habitations. ‘The brindled cow, which has 
led us hither, will supply us with milk. We will cultivate the 
neighboring soil, and lead an innocent and happy life.” 

His companions joyfully assented to this plan; and, in the 
first place, being very hungry and thirsty, they looked about them 
for the means of providing a comfortable meal. Not far off, they 
saw a tuft of trees, which appeared as if there might be a spring 
of water beneath them. They went thither to fetch some, leaving 
Cadmus stretched on the ground along with the brindled cow; 
for, now that he had found a place of rest, it seemed as if all the 
weariness of his pilgrimage, ever since he left King Agenor’s 
palace, had fallen upon him at once. But his new friends had 
not long been gone, when he was suddenly startled by cries, 
shouts, and screams, and the noise of a terrible struggle, and in 
the midst of it all, a most awful hissing, which went right through 
his ears like a rough saw. 

Running towards the tuft of trees, he beheld the head and 
fiery eyes of an immense serpent or dragon, with the widest jaws 
that ever a dragon had, and a vast many rows of horribly sharp 
teeth. Before Cadmus could reach the spot, this pitiless reptile 
had killed his poor companions, and was busily devouring them, 
making but a mouthful of each man. 

It appears that the fountain of water was enchanted, and that 
the dragon had been set to guard it, so that no mortal might ever 
quench his thirst there. As the neighboring inhabitants carefully 
avoided the spot, it was now a long time (not less than a hundred 
years, or thereabouts) since the monster had broken his fast; and, 
as was natural enough, his appetite had grown to be enormous, 
and was not half satisfied by the poor people whom he had just 

248 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


eaten up. When he caught sight of Cadmus, therefore, he set up 
another abominable hiss, and flung back his immense jaws, until 
his mouth looked like a great red cavern, at the farther end of 
which were seen the legs of his last victim, whom he had hardly 
had time to swallow. 

But Cadmus was so enraged at the destruction of his friends, 
that he cared neither for the size of the dragon’s jaws nor for his 
hundreds of sharp teeth. Drawing his sword, he rushed at the 
monster, and flung himself right into his cavernous mouth. This 
bold method of attacking him took the dragon by surprise; for, 
in fact, Cadmus had leaped so far down into his throat, that the 
rows of terrible teeth could not close upon him, nor do him the 
least harm in the world. Thus, though the struggle was a tre- 
mendous one, and though the dragon shattered the tuft of trees 
into small splinters by the lashing of his tail, yet, as Cadmus was 
all the while slashing and stabbing at his very vitals, it was not 
long before the scaly wretch bethought himself of slipping away. 
He had not gone his length, however, when the brave Cadmus 
gave him a sword-thrust that finished the battle; and, creeping 
out of the gateway of the creature’s jaws, there he beheld him 
still wriggling his vast bulk, although there was no longer life 
enough in him to harm a little child. 

But do not you suppose that it made Cadmus sorrowful to 
think of the melancholy fate which had befallen those poor, 
friendly people, who had followed the cow along with him? It 
seemed as if he were doomed to lose everybody whom he loved, 
or to see them perish in one way or another. And here he was, 
after all his toils and troubles, in a solitary place, with not a single 
human being to help him build a hut. 

“What shall I do?” cried he aloud. “It were better for me 
to have been devoured by the dragon, as my poor companions 
were.” 

“Cadmus,” said a voice, — but whether it came from above or 

249 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


below him, or whether it spoke within his own breast, the young 
man could not tell, — “Cadmus, pluck out the dragon’s teeth, 
and plant them in the earth.” 

This was a strange thing to do; nor was it very easy, I should 
imagine, to dig out all those deep-rooted fangs from the dead 
dragon’s jaws. But Cadmus toiled and tugged, and after pound- 
ing the monstrous head almost to pieces with a great stone, he at 
last collected as many teeth as might have filled a bushel or two. 
The next thing was to plant them. This, likewise, was a tedious 
piece of work, especially as Cadmus was already exhausted with 
killing the dragon and knocking his head to pieces, and had noth- 
ing to dig the earth with, that I know of, unless it were his sword- 
blade. Finally, however, a sufficiently large tract of ground was 
turned up, and sown with this new kind of seed; although half of 
the dragon’s teeth still remained to be planted some other day. 

Cadmus, quite out of breath, stood leaning upon his sword, 
and wondering what was to happen next. He had waited but a 
few moments, when he began to see a sight, which was as great a 
marvel as the most marvellous thing I ever told you about. 

The sun was shining slantwise over the field, and showed all 
the moist, dark soil just like any other newly planted piece of 
ground. All at once, Cadmus fancied he saw something glisten 
very brightly, first at one spot, then at another, and then at a hun- 
dred and a thousand spots together. Soon he perceived them to 
be the steel heads of spears, sprouting up everywhere like so many 
stalks of grain, and continually growing taller and taller. Next 
appeared a vast number of bright sword-blades, thrusting them- 
selves up in the same way. A moment afterwards, the whole sur- 
face of the ground was broken up by a multitude of polished brass 
helmets, coming up like a crop of enormous beans. So rapidly 
did they grow, that Cadmus now discerned the fierce countenance 
of a man beneath every one. In short, before he had time to think 
what a wonderful affair it was, he beheld an abundant harvest of 

250 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


what looked like human beings, armed with helmets and breast- 
plates, shields, swords and spears; and before they were well out 
of the earth, they brandished their weapons, and clashed them one 
against another, seeming to think, little while as they had yet 
lived, that they had wasted too much of life without a battle. 
Every tooth of the dragon had produced one of these sons of 
deadly mischief. 

Up sprouted, also, a great many trumpeters; and with the 
first breath that they drew, they put their brazen trumpets to their 
lips, and sounded a tremendous and ear-shattering blast; so that 
the whole space, just now so quiet and solitary, reverberated with 
the clash and clang of arms, the bray of warlike music, and the 
shouts of angry men. So enraged did they all look, that Cadmus 
fully expected them to put the whole world to the sword. How 
fortunate would it be for a great conqueror, if he could get a 
bushel of the dragon’s teeth to sow! 

“Cadmus,” said the same voice which he had before heard, 
“throw a stone into the midst of the armed men.” 

So Cadmus seized a large stone, and, flinging it into the mid- 
dle of the earth army, saw it strike the breastplate of a gigantic 
and fierce-looking warrior. Immediately on feeling the blow, he 
seemed to take it for granted that somebody had struck him; and, 
uplifting his weapon, he smote his next neighbor a blow that cleft 
his helmet asunder, and stretched him on the ground. In an in- 
stant, those nearest the fallen warrior began to strike at one an- 
other with their swords and stab with their spears. The confusion 
spread wider and wider. Each man smote down his brother, and 
was himself smitten down before he had time to exult in his vic- 
tory. The trumpeters, all the while, blew their blasts shriller 
and shriller; each soldier shouted a battle-cry and often fell with 
it on his lips. It was the strangest spectacle of causeless wrath, 
and of mischief for no good end, that had ever been witnessed; 
but, after all, it was neither more foolish nor more wicked than a 

251 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


thousand battles that have since been fought, in which men have 
slain their brothers with just as little reason as these children of 
the dragon’s teeth. It ought to be considered, too, that the dragon 
people were made for nothing else; whereas other mortals were 
born to love and help one another. 

Well, this memorable battle continued to rage until the 
ground was strewn with helmeted heads that had been cut off. Of 
all the thousands that began the fight, there were only five left 
standing. ‘These now rushed from different parts of the field, 
and, meeting in the middle of it, clashed their swords, and struck 
at each other’s hearts as fiercely as ever. 

“Cadmus,” said the voice again, “bid those five warriors 
sheathe their swords. They will help you to build the 
city.” 

Without hesitating an instant, Cadmus stepped forward, with 
the aspect of a king and a leader, and extending his drawn sword 
amongst them, spoke to the warriors in a stern and commanding 
voice. 

‘“‘ Sheathe your weapons!” said he. 

And forthwith, feeling themselves bound to obey him, the five 
remaining sons of the dragon’s teeth made him a military salute 
with their swords, returned them to the scabbards, and stood be- 
fore Cadmus in a rank, eyeing him as soldiers eye their captain, 
while awaiting the word of command. 

These five men had probably sprung from the biggest of the 
dragon’s teeth, and were the boldest and strongest of the whole 
army. They were almost giants, indeed, and had good need to be 
so, else they never could have lived through so terrible a fight. 
They still had a very furious look, and, if Cadmus happened to 
glance aside, would glare at one another, with fire flashing out 
of their eyes. It was strange, too, to observe how the earth, out 
of which they had so lately grown, was incrusted, here and there, 
on their bright breastplates, and even begrimed their faces, just 

252 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


as you may have seen it clinging to beets and carrots when pulled 
out of their native soil. Cadmus hardly knew whether to con- 
sider them as men, or some odd kind of vegetable; although, on 
the whole, he concluded that there was human nature in them, be- 
cause they were so fond of trumpets and weapons, and so ready 
to shed blood. 

They looked him earnestly in the face, waiting for his next 
order, and evidently desiring no other employment than to follow 
him from one battle-field to another, all over the wide world. 
But Cadmus was wiser than these earth-born creatures, with the 
dragon’s fierceness in them, and knew better how to use their 
strength and hardihood. 

“Come!” said he. “ You are sturdy fellows. Make your- 
selves useful! Quarry some stones with those great swords of 
yours, and help me to build a city.” 

The five soldiers grumbled a little, and muttered that it was 
their business to overthrow cities, not to build them up. But Cad- 
mus looked at them with a stern eye, and spoke to them in a tone 
of authority, so that they knew him for their master, and never 
again thought of disobeying his commands. They set to work in 
good earnest, and toiled so diligently, that, in a very short time, 
a city began to make its appearance. At first, to be sure, the 
workmen showed a quarrelsome disposition. Like savage beasts, 
they would doubtless have done one another a mischief, if Cad- 
mus had not kept watch over them and quelled the fierce old ser- 
pent that lurked in their hearts, when he saw it gleaming out of 
their wild eyes. But, in course of time, they got accustomed to 
honest labor, and had sense enough to feel that there was more 
true enjoyment in living in peace, and doing good to one’s neigh- 
bor, than in striking at him with a two-edged sword. It may not 
be too much to hope that the rest of mankind will by and by grow 
as wise and peaceable as these five earth-begrimed warriors, 
who sprang from the dragon’s teeth. 

253 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


And now the city was built, and there was a home in it for 
each of the workmen. But the palace of Cadmus was not yet 
erected, because they had left it till the last, meaning to introduce 
all the new improvements of architecture, and make it very com- 
modious, as well as stately and beautiful. After finishing the rest 
of their labors, they all went to bed betimes, in order to rise in 
the gray of the morning, and get at least the foundation of the 
edifice laid before nightfall. But, when Cadmus arose, and took 
his way toward the site where the palace was to be built, followed 
by his five sturdy workmen marching all in a row, what do you 
think he saw? 

What should it be but the most magnificent palace that had 
ever been seen in the world? It was built of marble and other 
beautiful kinds of stone, and rose high into the air, with a splendid 
dome and portico along the front, and carved pillars, and every- 
thing else that befitted the habitation of a mighty king. It had 
grown up out of the earth in almost as short a time as it had taken 
the armed host to spring from the dragon’s teeth; and what made 
the matter more strange, no seed of this stately edifice had ever 
been planted. 

When the five workmen beheld the dome, with the morning 
sunshine making it look golden and glorious, they gave a great 
shout. 

“Long live King Cadmus,” they cried, “in his beautiful 
palace.” 

And the new king, with his five faithful followers at his heels, 
shouldering their pickaxes and marching in a rank (for they still 
had a soldier-like sort of behavior, as their nature was), ascended 
the palace steps. Halting at the entrance, they gazed through 
a long vista of lofty pillars that were ranged from end to end of 
a great hall. At the farther extremity of this hall, approaching 
slowly towards him, Cadmus beheld a female figure, wonderfully 
beautiful, and adorned with a royal robe, and a crown of dia- 

254 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


monds over her golden ringlets, and the richest necklace that 
ever a queen wore. His heart thrilled with delight. He fan- 
cied it his long-lost sister Europa, now grown to womanhood, 
coming to make him happy, and to repay him, with her sweet 
sisterly affection, for all those weary wanderings in quest of her 
since he left King Agenor’s palace,— for the tears that he had 
shed, on parting with Phoenix, and Cilix, and Thasus, — for 
the heart-breakings that had made the whole world seem dismal 
to him over his dear mother’s grave. 

But, as Cadmus advanced to meet the beautiful stranger, he 
saw that her features were unknown to him, although, in the little 
time that it required to tread along the hall, he had already felt 
a sympathy twixt himself and her. 

~ No, Cadmus,” said the same voice that had spoken to him 
in the field of the armed men, “ this is not that dear sister Europa 
whom you have sought so faithfully all over the wide world. 
This is Harmonia, a daughter of the sky, who is given you instead 
of sister, and brothers, and friend, and mother. You will find all 
those dear ones in her alone.” 

So King Cadmus dwelt in the palace, with his new friend 
Harmonia, and found a great deal of comfort in his magnificent 
abode, but would doubtless have found as much, if not more, 
in the humblest cottage by the wayside. Before many years went 
by, there was a group of rosy little children (but how they came 
thither has always been a mystery to me) sporting in the great 
hall, and on the marble steps of the palace, and running joyfully 
to meet King Cadmus when affairs of state left him at leisure to 
play with them. They called him father, and Queen Harmonia 
mother. The five old soldiers of the dragon’s teeth grew very 
fond of these small urchins, and were never weary of showing 
them how to shoulder sticks, flourish wooden swords, and march 
in military order, blowing a penny trumpet, or beating an abom- 
inable rub-a-dub upon a little drum. 

255 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


But King Cadmus, lest there should be too much of the 
dragon’s tooth in his children’s disposition, used to find time from 
his kingly duties to teach them their A B C,— which he invented 
for their benefit, and for which many little people, I am afraid, are 
not half so grateful to him as they ought to be. 


256 


Circe’s Palace 


OME of you have heard, no doubt, of the wise King Ulys- 
S ses, and how he went to the siege of Troy, and how, after 
that famous city was taken and burned, he spent ten long 
years in trying to get back again to his own little kmgdom of 
Ithaca. At one time in the course of this weary voyage, he ar- 
rived at an island that looked very green and pleasant, but the 
name of which was unknown to him. For, only a little while be- 
fore he came thither, he had met with a terrible hurricane, or rather 
a great many hurricanes at once, which drove his fleet of vessels 
into a strange part of the sea, where neither himself nor any of 
his mariners had ever sailed. This misfortune was entirely owing 
to the foolish curiosity of his shipmates, who, while Ulysses lay 
asleep, had untied some very bulky leathern bags, in which they 
supposed a valuable treasure to be concealed. But in each of these 
stout bags, King AXolus, the ruler of the winds, had tied up a 
tempest, and had given it to Ulysses to keep, in order that he 
might be sure of a favorable passage homeward to Ithaca; and 
when the strings were loosened, forth rushed the whistling blasts, 
like air out of a blown bladder, whitening the sea with foam, and 
scattering the vessels nobody could tell whither. 

Immediately after escaping from this peril, a still greater one 
had befallen him. Scudding before the hurricane, he reached a 
place, which, as he afterwards found, was called Lestrygonia, 
where some monstrous giants had eaten up many of his com- 
panions, and had sunk every one of his vessels, except that in 
which he himself sailed, by flinging great masses of rock at them, 
from the cliffs along the shore. After going through such 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


troubles as these, you cannot wonder that King Ulysses was glad 
to moor his tempest-beaten bark in a quiet cove of the green island, 
which I began with tellmg you about. But he had encountered so 
many dangers from giants, and one-eyed Cyclopes, and monsters 
of the sea and land, that he could not help dreading some mischief, 
even in this pleasant and seemingly solitary spot. For two days, 
therefore, the poor weather-worn voyagers kept quiet, and 
either stayed on board of their vessel, or merely crept along under 
cliffs that bordered the shore; and to keep themselves alive, they 
dug shell-fish out of the sand, and sought for any little rill of fresh 
water that might be running towards the sea. 

Before the two days were spent, they grew very weary of this 
kind of life; for the followers of King Ulysses, as you will find it 
important to remember, were terrible gormandizers, and pretty 
sure to grumble if they missed their regular meals, and their ir- 
regular ones besides. Their stock of provisions was quite ex- 
hausted, and even the shell-fish began to get scarce, so that they 
had now to choose between starving to death or venturing into the 
interior of the island, where, perhaps, some huge three-headed 
dragon, or other horrible monster, had his den. Such misshapen 
creatures were very numerous in those days; and nobody ever 
expected to make a voyage, or take a journey, without running 
more or less risk of being devoured by them. 

But King Ulysses was a bold man as well as a prudent one; 
and on the third morning he determined to discover what sort of 
a place the island was, and whether it were possible to obtain a 
supply of food for the hungry mouths of his companions. So, 
taking a spear in his hand, he clambered to the summit of a cliff, 
and gazed round about him. At a distance, towards the centre of 
the island, he beheld the stately towers of what seemed to be a 
palace, built of snow-white marble, and rising in the midst of a 
grove of lofty trees. The thick branches of these trees stretched 
across the front of the edifice, and more than half concealed it, 

258 














CIRCE’S PALACE 


although, from the portion which he saw, Ulysses judged it to 
be spacious and exceedingly beautiful, and probably the resi- 
dence of some great nobleman or prince. A blue smoke went 
curling up from the chimney, and was almost the pleasantest part 
of the spectacle to Ulysses. For, from the abundance of this 
smoke, it was reasonable to conclude that there was a good fire in 
the kitchen, and that, at dinner-time, a plentiful banquet would 
be served up to the inhabitants of the palace, and to whatever 
guests might happen to drop in. 

With so agreeable a prospect before him, Ulysses fancied that 
he could not do better than to go straight to the palace gate, and 
tell the master of it that there was a crew of poor shipwrecked 
mariners, not far off, who had eaten nothing for a day or two save 
a few clams and oysters, and would therefore be thankful for a 
little food. And the prince or nobleman must be a very stingy 
curmudgeon, to be sure, if, at least, when his own dinner was 
over, he would not bid them welcome to the broken victuals from 
the table. 

Pleasing himself with this idea, King Ulysses had made a few 
steps in the direction of the palace, when there was a great twit- 
tering and chirping from the branch of a neighboring tree. A 
moment afterwards, a bird came flying towards him, and hovered 
in the air, so as almost to brush his face with its wings. It was a 
very pretty little bird, with purple wings and body, and yellow 
legs, and a circle of golden feathers round his neck, and on its 
head a golden tuft, which looked like a king’s crown in miniature. 
Ulysses tried to catch the bird. But it fluttered nimbly out of his 
reach, still chirping in a piteous tone, as if it could have told a 
lamentable story, had it only been gifted with human language. 
And when he attempted to drive it away, the bird flew no farther 
than the bough of the next tree, and again came fluttering about 
his head, with its doleful chirp, as soon as he showed a purpose of 
going forward. 

259 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


“ Have you anything to tell me, little bird?” asked Ulysses. 

And he was ready to listen attentively to whatever the bird 
might communicate; for at the siege of Troy, and elsewhere, he 
had known such odd things to happen, that he would not have 
considered it much out of the common run had this little feathered 
creature talked as plainly as himself. 

“Peep!” said the bird, “peep, peep, pe— weep!” And 
nothing else would it say, but only, ““ Peep, peep, pe — weep!” 
in a melancholy cadence, over and over and over again. As 
often as Ulysses moved forward, however, the bird showed the 
greatest alarm, and did its best to drive him back, with the anx- 
ious flutter of its purple wings. Its unaccountable behavior made 
him conclude, at last, that the bird knew of some danger that 
awaited him, and which must needs be very terrible, beyond all 
question, since it moved even a little fowl to feel compassion for 
a human being. So he resolved, for the present, to return to the 
vessel, and tell his companions what he had seen. 

This appeared to satisfy the bird. As soon as Ulysses turned 
back, it ran up the trunk of a tree, and began to pick insects out 
of the bark with its long, sharp bill; for it was a kind of wood- 
pecker, you must know, and had to get its living in the same 
manner as other birds of that species. But every little while, as it 
pecked at the bark of the tree, the purple bird bethought itself of 
some secret sorrow, and repeated its plaintive note of “ Peep, 
peep, pe — weep!” 

On his way to the shore, Ulysses had the good luck to kill a 
large stag by thrusting his spear into its back. Taking it on his 
shoulders (for he was a remarkably strong man), he lugged it 
along with him, and flung it down before his hungry companions. 
I have already hinted to you what gormandizers some of the com- 
rades of King Ulysses were. From what is related of them, I 
reckon that their favorite diet was pork, and that they had lived 
upon it until a good part of their physical substance was swine’s 

260 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


flesh, and their tempers and dispositions were very much akin to 
the hog. A dish of venison, however, was no unacceptable meal 
to them, especially after feeding so long on oysters and clams. 
So, beholding the dead stag, they felt of its ribs in a knowing way, 
and lost no time in kindling a fire, of drift-wood, to cook it. The 
rest of the day was spent in feasting; and if these enormous 
eaters got up from table at sunset, it was only because they could 
not scrape another morsel off the poor animal’s bones. 

The next morning their appetites were as sharp as ever. They 
looked at Ulysses, as if they expected him to clamber up the cliff 
again, and come back with another fat deer upon his shoulders. 
Instead of setting out, however, he summoned the whole crew 
together, and told them it was in vain to hope that he could kill a 
stag every day for their dinner, and therefore it was advisable to 
think of some other mode of satisfying their hunger. 

‘“ Now,” said he, “ when I was on the cliff yesterday, I dis- 
covered that this island is inhabited. At a considerable distance 
from the shore stood a marble palace, which appeared to be very 
spacious, and had a great deal of smoke curling out of one of its 
chimneys.” 

“ Aha!” muttered some of his companions, smacking their 
lips. ‘ That smoke must have come from the kitchen fire. There 
was a good dinner on the spit; and no doubt there will be as good 
a one to-day.” 

“ But,” continued the wise Ulysses, “‘ you must remember, my 
good friends, our misadventure in the cavern of one-eyed Poly- 
phemus, the Cyclops! Instead of his ordinary milk diet, did he 
not eat up two of our comrades for his supper, and a couple more 
for breakfast, and two at his supper again? Methinks I see 
him yet, the hideous monster, scanning us with that great red 
eye, in the middle of his forehead, to single out the fattest. And 
then again only a few days ago, did we not fall into the hands of 
the king of the Lestrygons, and those other horrible giants, his 

261 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


subjects, who devoured a great many more of us than are now 
left? To tell you the truth, if we go to yonder palace, there can 
be no question that we shall make our appearance at the dinner- 
table; but whether seated as guests, or served up as food, is a 
point to be seriously considered.” 

“ Hither way,” murmured some of the hungriest of the crew, 
“it will be better than starvation; particularly if one could be 
sure of being well fattened beforehand, and daintily cooked 
afterwards.” 

“That is a matter of taste,” said King Ulysses, “ and, for my 
own part, neither the most careful fattening nor the daintiest of 
cookery would reconcile me to being dished at last. My pro- 
posal is, therefore, that we divide ourselves into two equal par- 
ties, and ascertain, by drawing lots, which of the two shall go to 
the palace, and beg for food and assistance. If these can be 
obtained, all is well. If not, and if the inhabitants prove as in- 
hospitable as Polyhemus, or the Lestrygons, then there will 
but half of us perish, and the remainder may set sail and 
escape.” 

As nobody objected to this scheme, Ulysses proceeded to count 
the whole band, and found that there were forty-six men includ- 
ing himself. He then numbered off twenty-two of them, and put 
Eurylochus (who was one of his chief officers, and second only to 
himself in sagacity) at their head. Ulysses took command of the 
remaining twenty-two men, in person. Then, taking off his hel- 
met, he put two shells into it, on one of which was written, “ Go,” 
and on the other “ Stay.” Another person now held the helmet, 
while Ulysses and Eurylochus drew out each a shell; and the 
word “ Go” was found written on that which Eurylochus had 
drawn. In this manner, it was decided that Ulysses and his 
twenty-two men were to remain at the seaside until the other party 
should have found out what sort of treatment they might expect at 
the mysterious palace. As there was no help for it, Kurylochus 

262 


CLR CE? S*) PrAISA GH 


immediately set forth at the head of his twenty-two followers, who 
went off in a very melancholy state of mind, leaving their friends 
in hardly better spirits than themselves. 

No sooner had they clambered up the cliff, than they discerned 
the tall marble towers of the palace, ascending, as white as snow, 
out of the lovely green shadow of the trees which surrounded it. 
A gush of smoke came from a chimney in the rear of the edifice. 
This vapor rose high in the air, and, meeting with a breeze, was 
wafted seaward, and made to pass over the heads of the hungry 
mariners. When people’s appetites are keen, they have a very 
quick scent for anything savory in the wind. 

‘That smoke comes from the kitchen!” cried one of them, 
turning up his nose as high as he could, and snuffing eagerly. 
“ And, as sure as I’m a half-starved vagabond, I smell roast 
meat in it.” 

“Pig, roast pig!” said another. “Ah, the dainty little 
porker! My mouth waters for him.” 

“ Let us make haste,” cried the others, “or we shall be too 
late for the good cheer!” 

But scarcely had they made half a dozen steps from the edge 
of the cliff, when a bird came fluttering to meet them. It was the 
same pretty little bird, with the purple wings and body, the yellow 
legs, the golden collar round its neck, and the crown-like tuft upon 
its head, whose behavior had so much surprised Ulysses. It hov- 
ered about Eurylochus, and almost brushed his face with its 
wings. 

“Peep, peep, pe — weep!” chirped the bird. 

So plaintively intelligent was the sound, that it dared as if 
the little creature were going to break its heart with some mighty 
secret that it had to tell, and only this one poor note to tell it 
with. 

“ My pretty bird,” said Eurylochus, — for he was a wary per- 
son, and let no token of harm escape his notice, — “my pretty 

263 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


bird, who sent you hither? And what is the message which you 
bring?” 

“Peep, peep, pe— weep!” replied the bird, very sorrow- 
fully. 

Then it flew towards the edge of the cliff, and looked round at 
them, as if exceedingly anxious that they should return whence 
they came. Eurylochus and a few of the others were inclined to 
turn back. They could not help suspecting that the purple bird 
must be aware of something mischievous that would befall them 
at the palace, and the knowledge of which affected its airy spirit 
with a human sympathy and sorrow. But the rest of the voy- 
agers, snuffing up the smoke from the palace kitchen, ridiculed 
the idea of returning to the vessel. One of them (more brutal 
than his fellows, and the most notorious gormandizer in the whole 
crew) said such a cruel and wicked thing, that I wonder the mere 
thought did not turn him into a wild beast in shape, as he already 
was in his nature. 

“This troublesome and impertinent little fowl,” said he, 
“would make a delicate titbit to begin dinner with. Just one 
plump morsel, melting away between the teeth. If he comes 
within my reach, I ’ll catch him, and give him to the palace cook 
to be roasted on a skewer.” 

The words were hardly out of his mouth, before the purple 
bird flew away, crying “ Peep, peep, pe — weep,” more dolor- 
ously than ever. 

“That bird,” remarked Eurylochus, “ knows more than we do 
about what awaits us at the palace.” 

“Come on, then,” cried his comrades, “ and we ll soon know 
as much as he does.” 

The party, accordingly, went onward through the green and 
pleasant wood. Every little while they caught new glimpses of 
the marble palace, which looked more and more beautiful the 
nearer they approached it. They soon entered a broad pathway, 

264 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


which seemed to be very neatly kept, and which went winding 
along with streaks of sunshine falling across it, and specks of 
light quivering among the deepest shadows that fell from the 
lofty trees. It was bordered, too, with a great many sweet-smell- 
ing flowers, such as the mariners had never seen before. So 
rich and beautiful they were, that, if the shrubs grew wild here, 
and were native in the soil, then this island was surely the flower- 
garden of the whole earth; or, if transplanted from some other 
clime, it must have been from the Happy Islands that lay towards 
the golden sunset. 

“There has been a great deal of pains foolishly wasted on these 
flowers,” observed one of the company; and I tell you what he 
said, that you may keep in mind what gormandizers they were. 
“ For my part, if I were the owner of the palace, I would bid 
my gardener cultivate nothing but savory potherbs to make a 
stuffing for roast meat, or to flavor a stew with.” 

‘Well said!” cried the others. “But Ill warrant you 
there ’s a kitchen-garden in the rear of the palace.” 

At one place they came to a crystal spring, and paused to drink 
at it for want of liquor which they liked better. Looking into its 
bosom, they beheld their own faces dimly reflected, but so extrav- 
agantly distorted by the gush and motion of the water, that each 
. one of them appeared to be laughing at himself and all his com- 
panions. So ridiculous were these images of themselves, indeed, 
that they did really laugh aloud, and could hardly be grave again 
as soon as they wished. And after they had drank, they grew still 

merrier than before. 
| “ Tt has a twang of the wine-cask in it,” said one, smacking his 
lips. 

* Make haste! ’’ cried his fellows; “ we’ll find the wine-cask 
itself at the palace; and that will be better than a hundred crystal 
fountains.” 

Then they quickened their pace, and capered for joy at the 

265 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


thought of the savory banquet at which they hoped to be guests. 
But Eurylochus told them that he felt as if he were walking in 
a dream. 

“Tf I am really awake,” continued he, “ then, in my opinion, 
we are on he point of meeting with some stranger adventure than 
any that befell us in the cave of Polyphemus, or among the gigan- 
tic man-eating Lestrygons, or in the windy palace of King 
fKiolus, which stands on a brazen-walled island. This kind of 
dreamy feeling always comes over me before any wonderful occur- 
rence. If you take my advice, you will turn back.” 

“No, no,” answered his comrades, snuffing the air, in which the 
scent from the palace kitchen was now very perceptible. “ We 
would not turn back, though we were certain that the king of the 
Lestrygons, as big as a mountain, would sit at the head of the 
table, and huge Polyphemus, the one-eyed Cyclops, at its foot.” 

At length they came within full sight of the palace, which 
proved to be very large and lofty, with a great number of airy pin- 
nacles upon its roof. Though it was now midday, and the sun 
shone brightly over the marble front, yet its snowy whiteness, and 
its fantastic style of architecture, made it look unreal, like the 
frostwork on a window-pane, or like the shapes of castles which 
one sees among the clouds by moonlight. But, just then, a puff 
of wind brought down the smoke of the kitchen chimney among 
them, and caused each man to smell the odor of the dish that he 
liked best; and, after scenting it, they thought everything else 
moonshine, and nothing real save this palace, and save the banquet 
that was evidently ready to be served up in it. 

So they hastened their steps towards the portal, but had not 
got half-way across the wide lawn, when a pack of lions, tigers, 
and wolves came bounding to meet them. The terrified mariners 
started back, expecting no better fate than to be torn to pieces 
and devoured. ‘To their surprise and joy, however, these wild 
beasts merely capered around them, wagging their tails, offering 

266 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


their heads to be stroked and patted, and behaving just like so 
many well-bred house-dogs, when they wish to express their 
delight at meeting their master, or their master’s friends. The 
biggest lion licked the feet of Kurylochus; and every other lion, 
and every wolf and tiger, singled out one of his two-and-twenty 
followers, whom the beast fondled as if he loved him better than 
a beef-bone. 

But, for all that, Eurylochus imagined that he saw something 
fierce and savage in their eyes; nor would he have been surprised, 
at any moment, to feel the big lion’s terrible claws, or to see each 
of the tigers make a deadly spring, or each wolf leap at the throat 
of the man whom he had fondled. Their mildness seemed unreal, 
and a mere freak; but their savage nature was as true as their 
teeth and claws. 

Nevertheless, the men went safely across the lawn with the 
wild beasts frisking about them, and doing no manner of harm; 
although, as they mounted the steps of the palace, you might 
possibly have heard a low growl, particularly from the wolves; as 
if they thought it a pity, after all, to let the strangers pass with- 
out so much as tasting what they were made of. 

Eurylochus and his followers now passed under a lofty portal, 
and looked through the open doorway into the interior of the 
palace. The first thing that they saw was a spacious hall, and a 
fountain in the middle of it, gushing up towards the ceiling out 
of a marble basin, and falling back into it with a continual plash. 
The water of this fountain, as it spouted upward, was constantly 
taking new shapes, not very distinctly, but plainly enough for 
a nimble fancy to recognize what they were. Now it was the shape 
of a man in a long robe, the fleeey whiteness of which was made 
out of the fountain’s spray; now it was a lion, or a tiger, or a wolf, 
or an ass, or, as often as anything else, a hog, wallowing in the 
marble basin as if it were his sty. It was either magic or some 
very curious machinery that caused the gushing waterspout to 

267 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


assume all these forms. But, before the strangers had time to 
look closely at this wonderful sight, their attention was drawn 
off by a very sweet and agreeable sound. A woman’s voice was 
singing melodiously in another room of the palace, and with her 
voice was mingled the noise of a loom, at which she was probably 
seated, weaving a rich texture of cloth, and intertwining the high 
and low sweetness of her voice into a rich tissue of harmony. 

By and by, the song came to an end; and then, all at once, 
there were several feminine voices, talking airily and cheerfully, 
with now and then a merry burst of laughter, such as you may 
always hear when three or four young women sit at work together. 

“What a sweet song that was!” exclaimed one of the 
voyagers. 

“Too sweet, indeed,” answered Eurylochus, shaking his head. 
“Yet it was not so sweet as the song of the Sirens, those birdlike 
damsels who wanted to tempt us on the rocks, so that our vessel 
might be wrecked, and our bones left whitening along the shore.” 

“ But just listen to the pleasant voices of those maidens, and 
that buzz of the loom, as the shuttle passes to and fro,” said another 
comrade. ‘‘ What a domestic, household, homelike sound. it 
is! Ah, before that weary siege of Troy, I used to hear the buzzing 
loom and the women’s voices under my own roof. Shall I never 
hear them again? nor taste those nice little savory dishes which 
my dearest wife knew how to serve up?” 

“'Tush! we shall fare better here,” said another. “ But how 
innocently those women are babbling together, without guessing 
that we overhear them! And mark that richest voice of all, so 
pleasant and familiar, but which yet seems to have the authority 
of a mistress among them. Let us show ourselves at once. What 
harm can the lady of the palace and her maidens do to mariners 
and warriors like us?” 

“ Remember,” said Eurylochus, “ that it was a young maiden 
who beguiled three of our friends into the palace of the king of 

268 





CIRCE’S PALACE 


the Lestrygons, who ate up one of them in the twinkling of an 
eye.” 

No warning or persuasion, however, had any effect on his com- 
panions. ‘They went up to a pair of folding-doors at the farther 
end of the hall, and, throwing them wide open, passed into the 
next room. HKurylochus, meanwhile, had stepped behind a pillar. 
In the short moment while the folding-doors opened and closed 
again, he caught a glimpse of a very beautiful woman rising from 
the loom, and coming to meet the poor weather-beaten wanderers, 
with a hospitable smile, and her hand stretched out in welcome. 
There were four other young women, who joined their hands 
and danced merrily forward, making gestures of obeisance to 
the strangers. They were only less beautiful than the lady who 
seemed to be their mistress. Yet Eurylochus fancied that one of 
them had sea-green hair, and that the close-fitting bodice of 
a second looked like the bark of a tree, and that both the others 
had something odd in their aspect, although he could not quite 
determine what it was, in the little while that he had to examine 
them. 

The folding-doors swung quickly back, and left him standing 
behind the pillar, in the solitude of the outer hall. There Eury- 
lochus waited until he was quite weary, and listened eagerly to 
every sound, but without hearing anything that could help him 
to guess what had become of his friends. Footsteps, it is true, 
seemed to be passing and repassing in other parts of the palace. 
Then there was a clatter of silver dishes, or golden ones, which 
made him imagine a rich feast in a splendid banqueting-hall. 
But by and by he heard a tremendous grunting and squealing, 
and then a sudden scampering, like that of small, hard hoofs 
over a marble floor, while the voices of the mistress and her four 
handmaidens were screaming all together, in tones of anger and 
derision. Eurylochus could not conceive what had happened, 
unless a drove of swine had broken into the palace, attracted by 

269 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


the smell of the feast. Chancing to cast his eyes at the fountain, 
he saw that it did not shift its shape, as formerly, nor looked either 
like a long-robed man, or a lion, a tiger, a wolf, or an ass. It 
looked like nothing but a hog, which lay wallowing in the marble 
basin, and filled it from brim to brim. 

But we must leave the prudent Eurylochus waiting in the 
outer hall, and follow his friends into the inner secrecy of the pal- 
ace. As soon as the beautiful woman saw them, she arose from the 
loom, as I have told you, and came forward, smiling, and stretch- 
ing out her hand. She took the hand of the foremost among 
them, and bade him and the whole party welcome. 

“You have been long expected, my good friends,” said she. 
“IT and my maidens are well acquainted with you, although you 
do not appear to recognize us. Look at this piece of tapestry, and 
judge if your faces must not have been familiar to us.” 

So the voyagers examined the web of cloth which the beautiful 
woman had been weaving in her loom; and, to their vast astonish- 
ment they saw their own figures perfectly represented in different 
colored threads. It was a lifelike picture of their recent adven- 
tures, showing them in the cave of Polyphemus, and how they had 
put out his one great moony eye; while in another part of the tap- 
estry they were untying the leathern bags, puffed out with con- 
trary winds; and farther on, they beheld themselves scampering 
away from the gigantic king of the Lestrygons, who had caught 
one of them by the leg. Lastly, there they were, sitting on the des- 
olate shore of this very island, hungry and downcast, and looking 
ruefully at the bare bones of the stag which they devoured yester- 
day. This was as far as the work had yet proceeded; but when 
the beautiful woman should again sit down at her loom, she would 
probably make a picture of what had since happened to the stran- 
gers, and of what was now going to happen. 

“You see,” she said, “ that I know all about your troubles; 
and you cannot doubt that I desire to make you happy for as 

270 


> 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


long a time as you may remain with me. For this purpose, my 
honored guests, I have ordered a banquet to be prepared. Fish, 
fowl, and flesh, roasted, and in luscious stews, and seasoned, I 
trust, to all your tastes, are ready to be served up. If your appe- 
tites tell you it is dinner-time, then come with me to the festal 
saloon.” 

At this kind invitation, the hungry mariners were quite over- 
joyed; and one of them, taking upon himself to be spokesman, 
assured their hospitable hostess that any hour of the day was 
dinner-time with them, whenever they could get flesh to put in the 
pot, and fire to boil it with. So the beautiful woman led the way; 
and the four maidens (one of them had sea-green hair, another a 
bodice of oak bark, a third sprinkled a shower of water-drops from 
her fingers’ ends, and the fourth had some other oddity, which I 
have forgotten), all these followed behind, and hurried the guests 
along, until they entered a magnificent saloon. It was built in a 
perfect oval, and lighted from a crystal dome above. Around 
the walls were ranged two-and-twenty thrones, overhung by can- 
opies of crimson and gold, and provided with the softest of cush- 
ions, which were tasselled and fringed with gold cord. Each of 
the strangers was invited to sit down; and there they were, two- 
and-twenty storm-beaten mariners, in worn and tattered garb, sit- 
ting on two-and-twenty canopied thrones, so rich and gorgeous 
that the proudest monarch had nothing more splendid in his 
stateliest hall. 

Then you might have seen the guests nodding, winking with 
one eye, and leaning from one throne to another, to communicate 
their satisfaction in hoarse whispers. 

“Our good hostess has made kings of us all,” said one. 
“ Ha! do you smell the feast? Ill engage it will be fit to set be- 
fore two-and-twenty kings.” 

“T hope,” said another, “it will be, mainly, good substantial 
joints, sirloins, spareribs, and hinder quarters, without too many 

. 271 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


kickshaws. If I thought the good lady would not take it amiss, 
I should call for a fat slice of fried bacon to begin with.” 

Ah, the gluttons and gormandizers! You see how it was with 
them. In the loftiest seats of dignity, on royal thrones, they could 
think of nothing but their greedy appetite, which was the portion 
of their nature that they shared. with wolves and swine; so that 
they resembled those vilest of animals far more than they did 
kings, — if, indeed, kings were what they ought to be. 

But the beautiful woman now clapped her hands; and imme- 
diately there entered a train of two-and-twenty serving-men, 
bringing dishes of the richest food, all hot from the kitchen fire, 
and sending up such a steam that it hung like a cloud below the 
crystal dome of the saloon. An equal number of attendants 
brought great flagons of wine, of various kinds, some of which 
sparkled as it was poured out, and went bubbling down the throat; 
while, of other sorts, the purple liquor was so clear that you could 
see the wrought figures at the bottom of the goblet. While the 
servants supplied the two-and-twenty guests with food and drink, 
the hostess and her four maidens went from one throne to another, 
exhorting them to eat their fill, and to quaff wine abundantly, 
and thus to recompense themselves, at this one banquet, for the 
many days when they had gone without a dinner. But, whenever 
the mariners were not looking at them (which was pretty often, 
as they looked chiefly into the basins and platters), the beautiful 
woman and her damsels turned aside and laughed. Even the ser- 
vants, as they knelt down to present the dishes, might be seen to 
grin and sneer, while the guests were helping themselves to the 
offered dainties. 

And, once in a while, the strangers seemed. to taste something 
that they did not like. 

“ Here is an odd kind of a spice in this dish,” said one. “I 
can’t say it quite suits my palate. Down it goes, however.” 

“Send a good draught of wine down your throat,” said his 

272 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


comrade on the next throne. “ That is the stuff to make this sort 
of cookery relish well. Though I must needs say, the wine has a 
queer taste too. But the more I drink of it the better I like the 
flavor.” 

Whatever little fault they might find with the dishes, they sat 
at dinner a prodigiously long while; and it would really have 
made you ashamed to see how they swilled down the liquor and 
gobbled up the food. They sat on golden thrones, to be sure; but 
they behaved like pigs in a sty; and, if they had had their wits 
about them, they might have guessed that this was the opinion of 
their beautiful hostess and her maidens. It brings a blush into 
my face to reckon up, in my own mind, what mountains of meat 
and pudding, and what gallons of wine, these two-and-twenty 
guzzlers and gormandizers ate and drank. They forgot all about 
their homes, and their wives and children, and all about Ulysses, 
and everything else, except this banquet, at which they wanted to 
keep feasting forever. But at length they began to give over, 
from mere incapacity to hold any more. 

“ That last bit of fat is too much for me,” said one. 

“ And I have not room for another morsel,” said his next 
neighbor, heaving a sigh. “ What a pity! My appetite is as 
sharp as ever.” 

In short, they all left off eating, and leaned back on their 
thrones, with such a stupid and helpless aspect as made them ridic- 
ulous to behold. When their hostess saw this, she laughed aloud; 
so did her four damsels; so did the two-and-twenty serving men 
that bore the dishes, and their two-and-twenty fellows that 
poured out the wine. And the louder they all laughed, the more 
stupid and helpless did the two-and-twenty gormandizers look. 
Then the beautiful woman took her stand in the middle of the 
saloon, and stretching out a slender rod (it had been all the while 
in her hand, although they never noticed it till this moment), 
she turned it from one guest to another, until each had felt it 

18 273 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


pointed at himself. Beautiful as her face was, and though there 
was a smile on it, it looked just as wicked and mischievous as the 
ugliest serpent that ever was seen; and fat-witted as the voyagers 
had made themselves, they began to suspect that they had fallen 
into the power of an evil-minded enchantress. 

““ Wretches,” cried she, “you have abused a lady’s hospital- 
ity; and in this princely saloon your behavior has been suited to 
a hogpen. You are already swine in everything but the human 
form, which you disgrace, and which I myself should be ashamed 
to keep a moment longer, were you to share it with me. But it 
will require only the slightest exercise of magic to make the ex- 
terior conform to the hoggish disposition. Assume your proper 
shapes, gormandizers, and begone to the sty!” 

Uttering these last words, she waved her wand; and stamping 
her foot imperiously, each of the guests was struck aghast at be- 
holding, instead of his comrades in human shape, one-and-twenty 
hogs sitting on the same number of golden thrones. Each man 
(as he still supposed himself to be) essayed to give a ery of sur- 
prise, but found that he could merely grunt, and that, in a word, 
he was just such another beast as his companions. It looked so in- 
tolerably absurd to see hogs on cushioned thrones, that they made 
haste to wallow down upon all fours, like other swine. They tried 
to groan and beg for mercy, but forthwith emitted the most awful 
grunting and squealing that ever came out of swinish throats. 
They would have wrung their hands in despair, but, attempting 
to do so, grew all the more desperate for seeing themselves 
squatted on their hams, and pawing the air with their fore trotters. 
Dear me! what pendulous ears they had! what little red eyes, 
half buried in fat! and what long snouts, instead of Grecian noses! 

But brutes as they certainly were, they yet had enough of 
human nature in them to be shocked at their own hideousness; 
and, still intending to groan, they uttered a viler grunt and squeal 
than before. So harsh and ear-piercing it was, that you would 

274 


CIRCEHE’S PALACE 


have fancied a butcher was sticking his knife into each of their 
throats, or, at the very least, that somebody was pulling every hog 
by his funny little twist of a tail. 

“ Begone to your sty!” cried the enchantress, giving them 
some smart strokes with her wand; and then she turned to the 
serving-men, “Drive out these swine, and throw down some 
acorns for them to eat.” 

The door of the saloon being flung open, the drove of hogs ran 
in all directions save the right one, in accordance with their hog- 
gish perversity, but were finally driven into the back yard of 
the palace. It was a sight to bring tears into one’s eyes (and I 
hope none of you will be cruel enough to laugh at it), to see the 
poor creatures go snuffing along, picking up here a cabbage leaf 
and there a turnip-top, and rooting their noses in the earth for 
whatever they could find. In their sty, moreover, they behaved 
more piggishly than the pigs that had been born so; for they bit 
and snorted at one another, put their feet in the trough, and gob- 
bled up their victuals in a ridiculous hurry; and, when there was 
nothing more to be had, they made a great pile of themselves 
among some unclean straw, and fell fast asleep. If they had any 
human reason left, it was just enough to keep them wondering 
when they should be slaughtered, and what quality of bacon they 
should make. 

Meantime, as I told you before, Eurylochus had waited, and 
waited, and waited, in the entrance-hall of the palace, without 
being able to comprehend what had befallen his friends. At last, 
when the swinish uproar resounded through the palace, and when 
he saw the image of a hog in the marble basin, he thought it best 
to hasten back to the vessel, and inform the wise Ulysses of these 
marvellous occurrences. So he ran as fast as he could down the 
steps, and never stopped to draw breath till he reached the shore. 

“Why do you come alone?” asked King Ulysses, as soon as 
he saw him. “ Where are your two-and-twenty comrades?” 

275 


Pak 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


At these questions, Eurylochus burst into tears. 

“ Alas!” cried he, “I greatly fear that we shall never see one 
of their faces again.” 

Then he told Ulysses all that had happened, as far as he knew 
it, and added that he suspected the beautiful woman to be a vile 
enchantress, and the marble palace, magnificent as it looked, to 
be only a dismal cavern in reality. As for his companions, he 
could not imagine what had become of them, unless they had 
been given to the swine to be devoured alive. At this intelligence 
all the voyagers were greatly affrighted. But Ulysses lost no 
time in girding on his sword, and hanging his bow and quiver 
over his shoulders, and taking his spear in his right hand. When 
his followers saw their wise leader making these preparations, 
they inquired whither he was going, and earnestly besought him 
not to leave them. 

“You are our king,” cried they; “and what is more, you 
are the wisest man in the whole world, and nothing but your 


> 


- wisdom and courage can get us out of this danger. If you de- 


sert us, and go to the enchanted palace, you will suffer the same 
fate as our poor companions, and not a soul of us will ever see 
our dear Ithaca again.” 

“As I am your king,” answered Ulysses, “and wiser than 
any of you, it is therefore the more my duty to see what has be- 
fallen our comrades, and whether anything can yet be done to 
rescue them. Wait for me here until to-morrow. If I do not then 
return, you must hoist sail, and endeavor to find your way to our 
native land. For my part, I am answerable for the fate of these 
poor mariners, who have stood by my side in battle, and been so 
often drenched to the skin, along with me, by the same tempestu- 
ous surges. I will either bring them back with me or perish.” 

Had his followers dared, they would have detained him by 
force. But King Ulysses frowned sternly on them, and shook 
his spear, and bade them stop him at their peril. Seeing him so 

276 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


determined, they let him go, and sat down on the sand, as discon- 
solate a set of people as could be, waiting and praying for his 
return. 

It happened to Ulysses, just as before, that, when he had 
gone a few steps from the edge of the cliff, the purple bird came 
fluttering towards him, crying, “ Peep, peep, pe—weep!” and 
using all the art it could to persuade him to go no farther. 

“What mean you, little bird?” cried Ulysses. “‘ You are 
arrayed like a king in purple and gold, and wear a golden crown 
upon your head. Is it because I too am a king, that you desire 
so earnestly to speak with me? If you can talk in human lan- 
guage, say what you would have me do.” 

‘ Peep!” answered the purple bird, very dolorously. “ Peep, 
peep, pe — we — ep!” 

Certainly there lay some heavy anguish at the little bird’s 
heart; and it was a sorrowful predicament that he could not, at 
least, have the consolation of telling what it was. But Ulysses had 
no time to waste in trying to get at the mystery. He therefore 
quickened his pace, and had gone a good way along the pleasant 
wood-path, when there met him a young man of very brisk and in- 
telligent aspect, and clad in a rather singular garb. He wore a 
short cloak, and a sort of cap that seemed to be furnished with 
a pair of wings; and from the lightness of his step, you would 
have supposed that there might likewise be wings on his feet. 
To enable him to walk still better (for he was always on one 
journey or another), he carried a winged staff, around which 
two serpents were wriggling and twisting. In short, I have 
said enough to make you guess that it was Quicksilver; and 
Ulysses (who knew him of old, and had learned a great deal 
of his wisdom from him) recognized him in a moment. 

“ Whither are you going in such a hurry, wise Ulysses?” 
asked Quicksilver. “Do you not know that this island is en- 
chanted? The wicked enchantress (whose name is Circe, the 

277 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


sister of King Aetes) dwells in the marble palace which you see 
yonder among the trees. By her magic arts, she changes every 
human being into the brute, beast, or fowl whom he happens most 
to resemble.” 

“That little bird, which met me at the edge of the cliff,” ex- 
claimed Ulysses; ‘“ was he a human being once?” 

“Yes,” answered Quicksilver. “ He was once a king, named 
Picus, and a pretty good sort of a king too, only rather too proud 
of his purple robe, and his crown, and the golden chain about his 
neck; so he was forced to take the shape of a gaudy-feathered 
bird. The lions, and wolves, and tigers, who will come running to 
meet you, in front of the palace, were formerly fierce and cruel 
men, resembling in their dispositions the wild beasts whose forms 
they now rightfully wear.” 

“And my poor companions,” said Ulysses. “ Have they un- 
dergone a similar change, through the arts of this wicked Circe?” 

“You well know what gormandizers they were,” replied 
Quicksilver; and, rogue that he was, he could not help laughing 
at the joke. ‘“‘ So you will not be surprised to hear that they have 
all taken the shapes of swine! If Circe had never done anything 
worse, I really should not think her so very much to blame.” 

“ But can I do nothing to help them?” inquired Ulysses. 

“Tt will require all your wisdom,” said Quicksilver, “and a 
little of my own into the bargain, to keep your royal and saga- 
cious self from being transformed into a fox. But do as I bid 
you; and the matter may end better than it has begun.” 

While he was speaking, Quicksilver seemed to be in search of 
something; he went stooping along the ground, and soon laid 
his hand on a little plant with a snow-white flower, which he 
plucked and smelt of. Ulysses had been looking at that very spot 
only just before; and it appeared to him that the plant had burst 
into full flower the instant when Quicksilver touched it with his 
fingers. 

278 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


“Take this flower, King Ulysses,” said he. “Guard it as 
you do your eyesight; for I can assure you it is exceedingly rare 
and precious, and you might seek the whole earth over without 
ever finding another like it. Keep it in your hand, and smell of it 
frequently after you enter the palace, and while you are talking 
with the enchantress. Especially when she offers you food, or a 
draught of wine out of her goblet, be careful to fill your nostrils 
with the flower’s fragrance. Follow these directions, and you may 
defy her magic arts to change you into a fox.” 

Quicksilver then gave him some further advice how to behave, 
and, bidding him be bold and prudent, again assured him that, 
powerful as Circe was, he would have a fair prospect of coming 
safely out of her enchanted palace. After listening attentively, 
Ulysses thanked his good friend, and resumed his way. But he 
had taken only a few steps, when, recollecting some other ques- 
tions which he wished to ask, he turned round again, and beheld 
nobody on the spot where Quicksilver had stood; for that winged 
cap of his, and those winged shoes, with the help of the winged 
staff, had carried him quickly out of sight. 

When Ulysses reached the lawn, in front of the palace, the 
lions and other savage animals came bounding to meet him, and 
would have fawned upon him and licked his feet. But the wise 
king struck at them with his long spear, and sternly bade them 
begone out of his path; for he knew that they had once been 
bloodthirsty men, and would now tear him limb from limb, instead 
of fawning upon him, could they do the mischief that was in their 
hearts. The wild beasts yelped and glared at him, and stood at a 
distance while he ascended the palace steps. 

On entering the hall, Ulysses saw the magic fountain in the 
centre of it. The up-gushing water had now again taken the 
shape of a man in a long, white, fleecy robe, who appeared to be 
making gestures of welcome. The king likewise heard the noise 
of the shuttle in the loom, and the sweet melody of the beautiful 

279 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


woman’s song, and then the pleasant voices of herself and the four 
maidens talking together, with peals of merry laughter inter- 
mixed. But Ulysses did not waste much time in listening to the 
laughter or the song. He leaned his spear against one of the pil- 
lars of the hall, and then, after loosening his sword in the scabbard, 
stepped boldly forward, and threw the folding-doors wide open. 
The moment she beheld his stately figure standing in the door- 
way, the beautiful woman rose from the loom, and ran to meet 
him with a glad smile throwing its sunshine over her face, and 
both her hands extended. 

“Welcome, brave stranger!” cried she. “ We were expect- 
ing you.” 

And the nymph with the sea-green hair made a courtesy down 
to the ground, and likewise bade him welcome; so did her sister 
with the bodice of oaken bark, and she that sprinkled dew-drops 
from her fingers’ ends, and the fourth one with some oddity which 
I cannot remember. And Circe, as the beautiful enchantress was 
called (who had deluded so many persons that she did not doubt 
of being able to delude Ulysses, not imagining how wise he was), 
again addressed him. 

“Your companions,” said she, “have already been received 
into my palace, and have enjoyed the hospitable treatment to 
which the propriety of their behavior so well entitles them. If 
such be your pleasure, you shall first take some refreshment, and 
then join them in the elegant apartment which they now occupy. 
See, I and my maidens have been weaving their figures into this 
piece of tapestry.” 

She pointed to the web of beautifully woven cloth in the loom. 
Circe and the four nymphs must have been very diligently at work 
since the arrival of the mariners; for a great many yards of tap- 
estry had now been wrought, in addition to what I before de- 
scribed. In this new part, Ulysses saw his two-and-twenty friends 
represented as sitting on cushioned and canopied thrones, greedily 

280 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


devouring dainties and quaffing deep draughts of wine. The work 
had not yet gone any further. Oh no, indeed. The enchantress 
was far too cunning to let Ulysses see the mischief which her magic 
arts had since brought upon the gormandizers. 

“As for yourself, valiant sir,” said Circe, “ judging by the 
dignity of your aspect, I take you to be nothing less than a king. 
Deign to follow me, and you shall be treated as befits your 
rank.” 

So Ulysses followed her into the oval saloon, where his two- 
and-twenty comrades had devoured the banquet, which ended so 
disastrously for themselves. But, all this while, he had held the 
snow-white flower in his hand, and had constantly smelt of it while 
Circe was speaking; and as he crossed the threshold of the saloon, 
he took good care to inhale several long and deep snuffs of its fra- 
grance. Instead of two-and-twenty thrones, which had before 
been ranged around the wall, there was now only a single throne, 
in the centre of the apartment. But this was surely the most mag- 
nificent seat that ever a king or an emperor reposed himself upon, 
all made of chased gold, studded with precious stones, with a 
cushion that looked like a soft heap of living roses, and overhung 
by a canopy of sunlight which Circe knew how to weave into 
drapery. The enchantress took Ulysses by the hand, and made 
him sit down upon this dazzling throne. Then, clapping her 
hands, she summoned the chief butler. 

“ Bring hither,” said she, “ the goblet that is set apart for kings 
to drink out of. And fill it with the same delicious wine which my 
royal brother, King Aetes, praised so highly, when he last visited 
me with my fair daughter Medea. That good and amiable child! 
Were she now here, it would delight her to see me offering this 
wine to my honored guest.” 

But Ulysses, while the butler was gone for the wine, held the 
snow-white flower to his nose. 

“Is it a wholesome wine? ” he asked. 

281 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


At this the four maidens tittered; whereupon the enchantress 
looked round at them, with an aspect of severity. 

“ It is the wholesomest juice that ever was squeezed out of the 
grape,” said she; “for, instead of disguising a man, as other 
liquor is apt to do, it brings him to his true self, and shows him 
as he ought to be.” 

The chief butler liked nothing better than to see people turned 
into swine, or making any kind of a beast of themselves; so he 
made haste to bring the royal goblet, filled with a liquid as bright 
as gold, and which kept sparkling upward, and throwing a sunny 
spray over the brim. But, delightfully as the wine looked, it was 
mingled with the most potent enchantments that Circe knew how 
to concoct. For every drop of the pure grape-juice there were 
two drops of the pure mischief; and the danger of the thing was, 
that the mischief made it taste all the better. The mere smell of 
the bubbles, which effervesced at the brim, was enough to turn a 
man’s beard into pig’s bristles, or make a lion’s claws grow out of 
his fingers, or a fox’s brush behind him. . 

“ Drink, my noble guest,” said Circe, smiling as she presented 
him with the goblet. “ You will find in this draught a solace for 
all your troubles.” 

King Ulysses took the goblet with his right hand, while with 
his left he held the snow-white flower to his nostrils, and drew in so 
long a breath that his lungs were quite filled with its pure and 
simple fragrance. Then, drinking off all the wine, he looked the 
enchantress calmly in the face. 

“Wretch,” cried Circe, giving him a smart stroke with her 
wand, “how dare you keep your human shape a moment longer? 
Take the form of the brute whom you most resemble. If a hog, 
go join your fellow-swine in the sty; if a lion, a wolf, a tiger, go 
howl with the wild beasts on the lawn; if a fox, go exercise your 
craft in stealing poultry. Thou hast quaffed off my wine, and 
canst be man no longer.” 

282 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


But, such was the virtue of the snow-white flower, instead of 
wallowing down from his throne in swinish shape, or taking any 
other brutal form, Ulysses looked even more manly and king-like 
than before. He gave the magic goblet a toss, and sent it clash- 
ing over the marble floor, to the farthest end of the saloon. Then, 
drawing his sword, he seized the enchantress by her beautiful 
ringlets, and made a gesture as if he meant to strike off her head 
at one blow. 

“Wicked Circe,” cried he, in a terrible voice, “this sword 
shall put an end to thy enchantments. Thou shalt die, vile 
wretch, and do no more mischief in the world, by tempting hu- 
man beings into the vices which make beasts of them.” 

The tone and countenance of Ulysses were so awful, and 
his sword gleamed so brightly, and seemed to have so intolerably 


_ keen an edge, that Circe was almost killed by the mere fright, 


without waiting for a blow. The chief butler scrambled out of 
the saloon, picking up the golden goblet as he went; and the 
enchantress and the four maidens fell on their knees, wringing 
their hands, and screaming for mercy. 

“Spare me!” cried Circe, — ‘spare me, royal and wise 
Ulysses. For now I know that thou art he of whom 
Quicksilver forewarned me, the most prudent of mortals, 
against whom no enchantments can prevail. Thou only 
couldst have conquered Circe. Spare me, wisest of men. I 


~ will show thee true hospitality, and even give myself to be 


thy slave, and this magnificent palace to be henceforth thy 
home.” 

The four nymphs, meanwhile, were making a most piteous 
ado; and especially the ocean-nymph, with the sea-green hair, 
wept a great deal of salt water, and the fountain-nymph, besides 
scattering dew-drops from her fingers’ ends, nearly melted away 
into tears. But Ulysses would not be pacified until Circe had 
taken a solemn oath to change back his companions, and as many 

283 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


others as he should direct, from their present forms of beast or 
bird into their former shapes of men. 

‘On these conditions,” said he, “ I consent to spare your life. 
Otherwise you must die upon the spot.” 

With a drawn sword hanging over her, the enchantress would 
readily have consented to do as much good as she had hitherto 
done mischief, however little she might like such employment. 
She therefore led Ulysses out of the back entrance of the palace, 
and showed him the swine in their sty. There were about fifty of 
these unclean beasts in the whole herd; and though the greater 
part were hogs by birth and education, there was wonderfully little 
difference to be seen betwixt them and their new brethren who 
had so recently worn the human shape. To speak critically, in- 
deed, the latter rather carried the thing to excess, and seemed to 
make it a point to wallow in the miriest part of the sty, and other- 
wise to outdo the original swine in their own natural vocation. 
When men once turn to brutes, the trifle of man’s wit that remains 
in them adds tenfold to their brutality. 

The comrades of Ulysses, however, had not quite lost the re- 
membrance of having formerly stood erect. When he approached 
the sty, two-and-twenty enormous swine separated themselves 
from the herd, and scampered towards him, with such a chorus of 
horrible squealing as made him clap both hands to his ears. And 
yet they did not seem to know what they wanted, nor whether they 
were merely hungry, or miserable from some other cause. It 
was curious, in the midst of their distress, to observe them 
thrusting their noses into the mire, in quest of something to 
eat. The nymph with the bodice of oaken bark (she was the 
hamadryad of an oak) threw a handful of acorns among them; 
and the two-and-twenty hogs scrambled and fought for the 
prize, as if they had tasted not so much as a noggin of sour milk 
for a twelvemonth. 

“These must certainly be my comrades,’ 

284 


? 


said Ulysses, “I 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


recognize their dispositions. They are hardly worth the trouble of 
changing them into the human form again. Nevertheless, we will 
have it done, lest their bad example should corrupt the other hogs. 
Let them take their original shapes, therefore, Dame Circe, if 
your skill is equal to the task. It will require greater magic, I 
trow, than it did to make swine of them.” 

So Circe waved her wand again, and repeated a few magic 
words, at the sound of which the two-and-twenty hogs pricked 
up their pendulous ears. It was a wonder to behold how their 
snouts grew shorter and shorter, and their mouths (which they 
seemed to be sorry for, because they could not gobble so expedi- 
tiously) smaller and smaller, and how one and another began to 
stand upon his hind legs, and scratch his nose with his fore trotters. 
At first the spectators hardly knew whether to call them hogs or 
men, but by and by came to the conclusion that they rather re- 
sembled the latter. Finally, there stood the twenty-two comrades 
of Ulysses, looking pretty much the same as when they left the 
vessel. 

You must not imagine, however, that the swinish quality had 
entirely gone out of them. When once it fastens itself into a per- 
son’s character, it is very difficult getting rid of it. This was 
proved by the hamadryad, who, being exceedingly fond of mis- 
chief, threw another handful of acorns before the twenty-two 
newly restored people; whereupon down they wallowed, in a 
moment, and gobbled them up in a very shameful way. Then, 
recollecting themselves, they scrambled to their feet, and looked 
more than commonly foolish. 

“Thanks, noble Ulysses!” they cried. ‘“ From brute beasts 
you have restored us to the condition of men again.” 

“Do not put yourselves to the trouble of thanking me,” 
said the wise king. “I fear I have done but little for 
you.” 

To say the truth, there was a suspicious kind of a grunt in 

285 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


their voices, and for a long time afterwards they spoke gruffly, 
and were apt to set up a squeal. 

“It must depend on your own future behavior,” added 
Ulysses, “‘ whether you do not find your way back to the sty.” 

At this moment, the note of a bird sounded from the branch 
of a neighboring tree. 

“ Peep, peep, pe — wee — ep!” 

It was the purple bird, who, all this while, had been sitting 
over their heads, watching what was going forward, and hoping 
that Ulysses would remember how he had done his utmost to keep 
him and his followers out of harm’s way. Ulysses ordered Circe 
instantly to make a king of this good little fowl, and leave him 
exactly as she found him. Hardly were the words spoken, and 
before the bird had time to utter another “ Pe — weep,” King 
Picus leaped down from the bough of the tree, as majestic a sov- 
ereign as any in the world, dressed in a long purple robe and gor- 
geous yellow stockings, with a splendidly wrought collar about 
his neck, and a golden crown upon his head. He and King 
Ulysses exchanged with one another the courtesies which belong 
to their elevated rank. But from that time forth, King Picus 
was no longer proud of his crown and his trappings of royalty, 
nor of the fact of his being a king; he felt himself merely the 
upper servant of his people, and that it must be his lifelong labor 
to make them better and happier. 

As for the lions, tigers, and wolves (though Circe would have 
restored them to their former shapes at his slightest word), 
Ulysses thought it advisable that they should remain as they now 
were, and thus give warning of their cruel dispositions, instead of 
going about under the guise of men, and pretending to human 
sympathies, while their hearts had the blood-thirstiness of wild 
beasts. So he let them howl as much as they liked, but never 
troubled his head about them. And, when everything was settled 
according to his pleasure, he sent to summon the remainder of his 

286 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


comrades, whom he had left at the sea-shore. These being ar- 
rived, with the prudent Eurylochus at their head, they all made 
themselves comfortable in Circe’s enchanted palace, until quite 
rested and refreshed from the toils and hardships of their 
voyage. 


287 


The Pomegranate Seeds 


ter Proserpina, and seldom let her go alone into the 

fields. But, just at the time when my story begins, 
the good lady was very busy, because she had the care of the 
wheat, and the Indian corn, and the rye and barley, and, in short, 
of the crops of every kind, all over the earth; and as the season 
had thus far been uncommonly backward, it was necessary to 
make the harvest ripen more speedily than usual. So she put on 
her turban, made of poppies (a kind of flower which she was 
always noted for wearing), and got into her car drawn by a pair 
of winged dragons, and was just ready to set off. 

“Dear mother,” said Proserpina, “ I shall be very lonely while 
you are away. May I not run down to the shore, and ask some of 
the sea-nymphs to come up out of the waves and play with me? ” 

“Yes, child,” answered Mother Ceres. ‘“ The sea-nymphs are 
good creatures, and will never lead you into any harm. But you 
must take care not to stray away from them, nor go wandering 
about the fields by yourself. Young girls, without their mothers 
to take care of them, are very apt to get into mischief.” 

The child promised to be as prudent as if she were a grown-up 
woman, and, by the time the winged dragons had whirled the car 
out of sight, she was already on the shore, calling to the sea- 
nymphs to come and play with her. They knew Proserpina’s 
voice, and were not long in showing their glistening faces and 
sea-green hair above the water, at the bottom of which was their 
home. They brought along with them a great many beauti- 

288 


Morr CERES was exceedingly fond of her daugh- 














THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


ful shells; and, sitting down on the moist sand, where the surf 
wave broke over them, they busied themselves in making a neck- 
lace, which they hung round Proserpina’s neck. By way of 
showing her gratitude, the child besought them to go with her a 
little way into the fields, so that they might gather abundance of 
flowers, with which she would make each of her kind playmates a 
wreath. 

“Oh no, dear Proserpina,” cried the sea-nymphs; “we dare 
not go with you upon the dry land. We are apt to grow faint, 
unless at every breath we can snuff up the salt breeze of the ocean. 
And don’t you see how careful we are to let the surf wave break 
over us every moment or two, so as to keep ourselves comfortably 
moist? If it were not for that, we should soon look like bunches 
of uprooted sea-weed dried in the sun.” 

“It is a great pity,” said Proserpina. “ But do you wait for 
me here, and I will run and gather my apron full of flowers, and be 
back again before the surf wave has broken ten times over you. 
I long to make you some wreaths that shall be as lovely as this 
necklace of many-colored shells.” 

“We will wait, then,” answered the sea-nymphs. “ But while 
you are gone, we may as well lie down on a bank of soft sponge, 
under the water. The air to-day is a little too dry for our comfort. 
But we will pop up our heads every few minutes to see if you are 
coming.” 

The young Proserpina ran quickly to a spot where, only the 
day before, she had seen a great many flowers. These, however, 
were now a little past their bloom; and wishing to give her friends 
the freshest and loveliest blossoms, she strayed farther into the 
fields, and found some that made her scream with delight. Never 
had she met with such exquisite flowers before, — violets, so large 
and fragrant, — roses, with so rich and delicate a blush, — such 
superb hyacinths and such aromatic pinks, — and many others, 
some of which seemed to be of new shapes and colors. Two or 

Hn 289 


> 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


three times, moreover, she could not help thinking that a tuft of 
most splendid flowers had suddenly sprouted out of the earth be- 
fore her very eyes, as if on purpose to tempt her a few steps far- 
ther. Proserpina’s apron was soon filled and brimming over with 
delightful blossoms. She was on the point of turning back in 
order to rejoin the sea-nymphs, and sit with them on the moist 
sands, all twining wreaths together. But, a little farther on, what 
should she behold? It was a large shrub, completely covered 
with the most magnificent flowers in the world. 

“ The darlings!” cried Proserpina; and then she thought to 
herself, “ I was looking at that spot only a moment ago. How 
strange it is that I did not see the flowers! ” 

The nearer she approached the shrub, the more attractive it 
looked, until she came quite close to it; and then, although its 
beauty was richer than words can tell, she hardly knew whether 
to like it or not. It bore above a hundred flowers of the most bril- 
liant hues, and each different from the others, but all having a 
kind of resemblance among themselves, which showed them to be 
sister blossoms. But there was a deep, glossy lustre on the 
leaves of the shrub, and, on the petals of the flowers, that made 
Proserpina doubt whether they might not be poisonous. To tell 
you the truth, foolish as it may seem, she was half inclined to turn 
round and run away. 

“ What a silly child I am!” thought she, taking courage. “It 
is really the most beautiful shrub that ever sprang out of the earth. 
I will pull it up by the roots, and carry it home, and plant it in 
my mother’s garden.” 

Holding up her apron full of flowers with her left hand, Pros- 
erpina seized the large shrub with the other, and pulled and pulled, 
but was hardly able to loosen the soil about its roots. What a 
deep-rooted plant it was! Again the girl pulled with all her might, 
and observed that the earth began to stir and crack to some dis- 
tance around the stem. She gave another pull, but relaxed her 

290 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


hold, fancying that there was a rumbling sound right beneath her 
feet. Did the roots extend down into some enchanted cavern? 
Then, laughing at herself for so childish a notion, she made an- 
other effort; up came the shrub, and Proserpina staggered back, 
holding the stem triumphantly in her hand, and gazing at the 
deep hole which its roots had left in the soil. 

Much to her astonishment, this hole kept spreading wider and 
wider, and growing deeper and deeper, until it really seemed to 
have no bottom; and all the while, there came a rumbling noise out 
of its depths, louder and louder, and nearer and nearer, and sound- 
ing like the tramp of horses’ hoofs and the rattling of wheels. Too 
much frightened to run away, she stood straining her eyes into this 
wonderful cavity, and soon saw a team of four sable horses, snort- 
ing smoke out of their nostrils, and) tearing their way out of the 
earth with a splendid golden chariot whirling at their heels. They 
leaped out of the bottomless hole, chariot and all; and there they 
were, tossing their black manes, flourishing their black tails, and 
curvetting with every one of their hoofs off the ground at once, 
close by the spot where Proserpina stood. In the chariot sat the 
figure of a man, richly dressed, with a crown on his head, all flam- 
ing with diamonds. He was of a noble aspect, and rather hand- 
some, but looked sullen and discontented; and he kept rubbing his 
eyes and shading them with his hand, as if he did not live enough 
in the sunshine to be very fond of its light. 

As soon as this personage saw the affrighted Proserpina, he 
beckoned her to come a little nearer. 

“Do not be afraid,” said he, with as cheerful a smile as he 
knew how to put on. “Come! Will not you like to ride a little 
way with me, in my beautiful chariot? ” 

But Proserpina was so alarmed, that she wished for nothing 
but to get out of his reach. And no wonder. The stranger did 
not look remarkably good-natured, in spite of his smile; and as 
for his voice, its tones were deep and stern, and sounded as much 

291 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


like the rumbling of an earthquake under ground as anything 
else. As is always the case with children in trouble, Proserpina’s 
first thought was to call for her mother. 

“Mother, Mother Ceres!” cried she, all in a tremble. 
“Come quickly and save me.” 

But her voice was too faint for her mother to hear. Indeed, 
it is most probable that Ceres was then a thousand miles off, mak- 
ing the corn grow in some far-distant country. Nor could it have 
availed her poor daughter, even had she been within hearing; for 
no sooner did Proserpina begin to cry out, than the stranger 
leaped to the ground, caught the child in his arms, and again 
mounting the chariot, shook the reins, and shouted to the four 
black horses to set off. They immediately broke into so swift a 
gallop that it seemed rather like flying through the air than run- 
ning along the earth. In a moment, Proserpina lost sight of the 
pleasant vale of Enna, in which she had always dwelt. Another 
instant, and even the summit of Mount Avtna had become so blue 
in the distance, that she could scarcely distinguish it from the 
smoke that gushed out of its crater. But still the poor child 
screamed, and scattered her apron full of flowers along the way, 
and left a long cry trailing behind the chariot; and many mothers, 
to whose ears it came, ran quickly to see if any mischief had be- 
fallen their children. But Mother Ceres was a great way off, and 
could not hear the cry. 

As they rode on, the stranger did his best to soothe her. 

“Why should you be so frightened, my pretty child? ” said he, 
trying to soften his rough voice. “I promise not to do you any 
harm. What! You have been gathering flowers? Wait till we 
come to my palace, and I will give you a garden full of prettier 
flowers than those, all made of pearls, and diamonds, and rubies. 
Can you guess who I am? They call my name Pluto, and I am 
the king of diamonds and all other precious stones. Every atom 
of the gold and silver that lies under the earth belongs to me, to 

292 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


say nothing of the copper and iron, and of the coal-mines, which 
supply me with abundance of fuel. Do you see this splendid 
crown upon my head? You may have it for a plaything. Oh, we 
shall be very good friends, and you will find me more agreeable 
than you expect, when once we get out of this troublesome sun- 
shine.” 

“ Let me go home!” cried Proserpina, — “ let me go home!” 

“My home is better than your mother’s,” answered King 
Pluto. “It is a palace, all made of gold, with crystal windows; 
and because there is little or no sunshine thereabouts, the apart- 
ments are illuminated with diamond lamps. You never saw any- 
thing half so magnificent as my throne. If you like, you may sit 
down on it, and be my little queen, and I will sit on the footstool.” 

“I don’t care for golden palaces and thrones,” sobbed Proser- 
pina. “Oh, my mother, my mother! Carry me back to my 
mother! ” 

But King Pluto, as he called himself, only shouted to his steeds 
to go faster. 

“ Pray do not be foolish, Proserpina,” said he, in rather a 
sullen tone. “I offer you my palace and my crown, and all the 
riches that are under the earth; and you treat me as if I were 
doing you an injury. The one thing which my palace needs is a 
merry little maid, to run up stairs and down, and cheer up the 
rooms with her smile. And this is what you must do for King 
Pluto.” 

“ Never!” answered Proserpina, looking as miserable as she 
could. “T shall never smile again till you set me down at my 
mother’s door.” 

But she might just as well have talked to the wind that whis- 
tled past them; for Pluto urged on his horses, and went faster 
than ever. Proserpina continued to cry out, and screamed so long 
and so loudly, that her poor little voice was almost screamed away ; 
and when it was nothing but a whisper, she happened to cast her 

293 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


eyes over a great, broad field of waving grain — and whom do 
do you think she saw? Who, but Mother Ceres, making the corn 
grow, and too busy to notice the golden chariot as it went rattling 
along. The child mustered all her strength, and gave one more 
scream, but was out of sight before Ceres had time to turn her 
head. 

King Pluto had taken a road which now began to grow ex- 
cessively gloomy. It was bordered on each side with rocks and 
precipices, between which the rumbling of the chariot-wheels was 
reverberated with a noise like rollmg thunder. The trees and 
bushes that grew in the crevices of the rocks had very dismal foli- 
age; and by and by, although it was hardly noon, the air became 
obscured with a gray twilight. The black horses had rushed along 
so swiftly, that they were already beyond the limits of the sun- 
shine. But the duskier it grew, the more did Pluto’s visage as- 
sume an air of satisfaction. After all, he was not an ill-looking 
person, especially when he left off twisting his features into a 
smile that did not belong to them. VProserpina peeped at his 
face through the gathering dusk, and hoped that he might not be 
so very wicked as she at first thought him. 

“ Ah, this twilight is truly refreshing,” said King Pluto, 
“after being so tormented with that ugly and impertinent glare 
of the sun. How much more agreeable is lamplight or torchlight, 
more particularly when reflected from diamonds! It will be a 
magnificent sight when we get to my palace.” 

“Is it much farther?” asked Proserpina. “And will you 
carry me back when I have seen it?” 

“We will talk of that by and by,” answered Pluto. “ We are 
just entering my dominions. Do you see that tall gateway be- 
fore us? When we pass those gates, we are at home. And 
there lies my faithful mastiff at the threshold. Cerberus! Cer- 
berus! Come hither, my good dog! ” 

So saying, Pluto pulled at the reins, and stopped the char- 

294 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


riot right between the tall, massive pillars of the gateway. The 
mastiff of which he had spoken got up from the threshold, and 
stood on his hinder legs, so as to put his fore paws on the chariot- 
wheel. But, my stars, what a strange dog it was! Why, he was 
a big, rough, ugly-looking monster, with three separate heads, 
and each of them fiercer than the two others; but, fierce as they 
were, King Pluto patted them all. He seemed as fond of his 
three-headed dog as if it had been a sweet little spaniel, with 
silken ears and curly hair. Cerberus, on the other hand, was evi- 
dently rejoiced to see his master, and expressed his attachment, 
as other dogs do, by wagging his tail at a great rate. Proser- 
pina’s eyes being drawn to it by its brisk motion, she saw that 
this tail was neither more nor less than a live dragon, with 
fiery eyes, and fangs that had a very poisonous aspect. And 
while the three-headed Cerberus was fawning so lovingly on King 
Pluto, there was the dragon tail wagging against its will, and 
looking as cross and ill-natured as you can imagine, on its 
own separate account. 

“Will the dog bite me?” asked Proserpina, shrinking 
closer to Pluto. ‘“ What an ugly creature he is!” 

““Oh, never fear,” answered her companion. “ He never 
harms people, unless they try to enter my dominions without be- 
ing sent for, or to get away when I wish to keep them here. 
Down, Cerberus! Now, my pretty Proserpina, we will drive on.” 

On went the chariot, and King Pluto seemed greatly 
pleased to find himself once more in his own kngdom. He 
drew Proserpina’s attention to the rich veins of gold that were 
to be seen among the rocks, and pointed to several places where 
one stroke of a pickaxe would loosen a bushel of diamonds. All 
along the road, indeed, there were sparkling gems, which would 
have been of inestimable value above ground, but which were 
here reckoned of the meaner sort, and hardly worth a beggar’s 
stooping for. 

295 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


Not far from the gateway, they came to a bridge, which 
seemed to be built of iron. Pluto stopped the chariot, and bade 
Proserpina look at the stream which was gliding so lazily beneath 
it. Never in her life had she beheld, so torpid, so black, so muddy- 
looking a stream: its waters reflected no images of anything 
that was on the banks, and it moved as sluggishly as if it had quite 
forgotten which way it ought to flow, and had rather stagnate 
than flow either one way or the other. 

“This is the river Lethe,” observed King Pluto. “Is it not 
a very pleasant stream?” 

“TI think it is a very dismal one,” said Proserpina. 

“It suits my taste, however,” answered Pluto, who was apt to 
be sullen when anybody disagreed with him. “ At all events, its 
water has one very excellent quality; for a single draught of 
it makes people forget every care and sorrow that has hitherto 
tormented them. Only sip a little of it, my dear Proserpina, and 
you will instantly cease to grieve for your mother, and will have 
nothing in your memory that can prevent your being perfectly 
happy in my palace. I will send for some, in a golden goblet, the 
moment we arrive.” 

“Oh no, no, no!” cried Proserpina, weeping afresh. “TI had 
a thousand times rather be miserable with remembering my 
mother, than be happy in forgetting her. That dear, dear mother! 
I never, never will forget her.” 

“We shall see,” said King Pluto. ‘ You do not know what 
fine times we will have in my palace. Here we are just at the 
portal. These pillars are solid gold, I assure you.” 

He alighted from the chariot, and taking Proserpina in his 
arms, carried her up a lofty flight of steps into the great hall of the 
palace. It was splendidly illuminated by means of large precious 
stones, of various hues, which seemed to burn like so many lamps, 
and glowed with a hundred-fold radiance all through the vast 
apartment. And yet there was a kind of gloom in the midst of 

296 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


this enchanted light; nor was there a single object in the hall that 
was really agreeable to behold, except the little Proserpina her- 
self, a lovely child, with one earthly flower which she had not let 
fall from her hand. It is my opinion that even King Pluto had 
never been happy in his palace, and that this was the true reason 
why he had stolen away Proserpina, in order that he might have 
something to love, instead of cheating his heart any longer with 
this tiresome magnificence. And, though he pretended to dislike 
the sunshine of the upper world, yet the effect of the child’s pres- 
ence, bedimmed as she was by her tears, was as if a faint and 
watery sunbeam had somehow or other found its way into the en- 
chanted hall. 

Pluto now summoned his domestics, and bade them lose no 
time in preparing a most sumptuous banquet, and above all 
_ things, not to fail of setting a golden beaker of the water of Lethe 
by Proserpina’s plate. 

“T will neither drink that nor anything else,” said Proser- 
pina. “Nor will I taste a morsel of food, even if you keep me 
' forever in your palace.” 

“TI should be sorry for that,” replied King Pluto, patting her 
cheek; for he really wished to be kind, if he had only known how. 
“You are a spoiled child, I perceive, my little Proserpina; but 
_ when you see the nice things which my cook will make for you, 
your appetite will quickly come again.” 

Then, sending for the head cook, he gave strict orders that all 
sorts of delicacies, such as young people are usually fond of, 
should be set before Proserpina. He had a secret motive in this; 
for, you are to understand, it is a fixed law, that, when persons 
are carried off to the land of magic, if they once taste any food 
there, they can never get back to their friends. Now, if King 
Pluto had been cunning enough to offer Proserpina some fruit, 
or bread and milk (which was the simple fare to which the child 
had always been accustomed), it is very probable that she would 

297 


? 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


soon have been tempted to eat it. But he left the matter entirely 
to his cook, who, like all other cooks, considered nothing fit to 
eat unless it were rich pastry, or highly seasoned meat, or spiced 
sweet cakes, — things which Proserpina’s mother had never 
given her, and the smell of which quite took away her appe- 
tite, instead, of sharpening it. 

But my story must now clamber out of King Pluto’s domin- 
ions, and see what Mother Ceres has been about, since she was 
bereft of her daughter. We had a glimpse of her, as you remem- 
ber, half hidden among the waving grain, while the four black 
steeds were swiftly whirling along the chariot in which her be- 
loved Proserpina was so unwillingly borne away. You recollect, 
too, the loud scream which Proserpina gave, just when the chariot 
was out of sight. 

Of all the child’s outcries, this last shriek was the only one that 
reached the ears of Mother Ceres. She had mistaken the rum- 
bling of the*chariot-wheels for a peal of thunder, and imagined 
that a shower was coming up, and that it would assist her in mak- 
ing the corn grow. But, at the sound of Proserpina’s shriek, she 
started, and looked about in every direction, not knowing whence 
it came, but feeling almost certain that it was her daughter’s 
voice. It seemed so unaccountable, however, that the girl should 
have strayed over so many lands and seas (which she herself could 
not have traversed without the aid of her winged dragons), that 
the good Ceres tried, to believe that it must be the child of some 
other parent, and not her own darling Proserpina, who had ut- 
tered this lamentable cry. Nevertheless, it troubled her with a 
vast many tender fears, such as are ready to bestir themselves in 
every mother’s heart, when she finds it necessary to go away from 
her dear children without leaving them under the care of some 
maiden aunt, or other such faithful guardian. So she quickly 
left the field in which she had been so busy; and, as her work was 
not half done, the grain looked, next day, as if it needed both sun 

298 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


and rain, and as if it were blighted in the ear, and had something 
the matter with its roots. 

The pair of dragons must have had very nimble wings; for, 
in less than an hour, Mother Ceres had alighted at the door of her 
home, and found it empty. Knowing, however, that the child was 
fond of sporting on the sea-shore, she hastened thither as fast as 
she could, and there beheld the wet faces of the poor sea-nymphs 
peeping over a wave. All this while, the good creatures had been 
waiting on the bank of sponge, and, once every half-minute or so, 
had popped up their four heads above water, to see if their play- 
mate were yet coming back. When they saw Mother Ceres, they 
sat down on the crest of the surf wave, and let it toss them ashore 
at her feet. 

“ Where is Proserpina?” cried Ceres. “ Where is my child? 
Tell me, you naughty sea-nymphs, have you enticed her under the 
sea?” 

“ Oh no, good Mother Ceres,” said the innocent sea-nymphs, 
tossing back their green ringlets, and looking her in the face. 
“We never should dream of such a thing. Proserpina has been 
at play with us, it is true; but she left us a long while ago, mean- 
ing only to run a little way upon the dry land, and gather some 
flowers for a wreath. This was early in the day, and we have seen 
nothing of her since.” 

Ceres scarcely waited to hear what the nymphs had to say, be- 
fore she hurried off to make inquiries all through the neighbor- 
hood. But nobody told her anything that could enable the poor 
mother to guess what had become of Proserpina. A fisherman, it 
is true, had noticed her little footprints in the sand, as he went 
homeward along the beach with a basket of fish; a rustic had seen 
the child stooping to gather flowers; several persons had heard 
either the rattling of chariot-wheels, or the rumbling of distant 
thunder; and one old woman, while plucking vervain and catnip, 
had heard a scream, but supposed it to be some childish nonsense, 

299 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


and therefore did not take the trouble to look up. The stupid 
people! It took them such a tedious while to tell the nothing 
that they knew, that it was dark night before Mother Ceres 
found out that she must seek her daughter elsewhere. So she 
lighted a torch, and set forth resolving never to come back until 
Proserpina was discovered. 

In her haste and trouble of mind, she quite forgot her car and 
the winged dragons; or, it may be, she thought that she could fol- 
low up the search more thoroughly on foot. At all events, this 
was the way in which she began her sorrowful journey, holding 
her torch before her, and looking carefully at every object along 
the path. And as it happened, she had not gone far before she 
found one of the magnificent flowers which grew on the shrub that 
Proserpina had pulled up. 

“Ha!” thought Mother Ceres, examining it by torchlight. 
“Here is mischief in this flower! The earth did not produce it by 
any help of mine, nor of its own accord. It is the work of en- 
chantment, and is therefore poisonous; and perhaps it has pois- 
oned my poor child.” 

But she put the poisonous flower in her bosom, not knowing 
whether she might ever find any other memorial of Proserpina. 

All night long, at the door of every cottage and farm-house, 
Ceres knocked, and called up the weary laborers to inquire if they 
had seen her child; and they stood, gaping and half asleep, at the 
threshold, and answered her pityingly, and besought her to come 
in and rest. At the portal of every palace, too, she made so loud a 
summons that the menials hurried to throw open the gate, thinking 
that it must be some great king or queen, who would demand a 
banquet for supper and a stately chamber to repose in. And when 
they saw only a sad and anxious woman, with a torch in her hand 
and a wreath of withered poppies on her head, they spoke rudely, 
and sometimes threatened to set the dogs upon her. But nobody 
had seen Proserpina, nor could give Mother Ceres the least hint 

300 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


which way to seek her. Thus passed the night; and still she con- 
tinued her search without sitting down to rest, or stopping to take 
food, or even remembering to put out the torch; although first the 
rosy dawn, and then the glad light of the morning sun, made its 
red flame look thin and pale. But I wonder what sort of stuff 
this torch was made of; for it burned dimly through the day, and, 
at night, was as bright as ever, and never was extinguished by the 
rain or wind, in all the weary days and nights while Ceres was 
seeking for Proserpina. 

It was not merely of human beings that she asked tidings of 
her daughter. In the woods and by the streams, she met crea- 
tures of another nature, who used, in those old times, to haunt the 
pleasant and solitary places, and were very sociable with persons 
who understood their language and customs, as Mother Ceres did. 
Sometimes, for instance, she tapped with her finger against the 
knotted trunk of a majestic oak; and immediately its rude bark 
would cleave asunder, and forth would step a beautiful maiden, 
who was the hamadryad of the oak, dwelling inside of it, and shar- 
ing its long life, and rejoicing when its green leaves sported with 
the breeze. But not one of these leafy damsels had. seen Proser- 
pina. Then, going a little farther, Ceres would, perhaps, come to 
a fountain, gushing out of a pebbly hollow in the earth, and would 
dabble with her hand in the water. Behold, up through its sandy 
and pebbly bed, along with the fountain’s gush, a young woman 
with dripping hair would arise, and stand gazing at Mother 
Ceres, half out of the water, and undulating up and down with 
its ever-restless motion. But when the mother asked whether her 
poor lost child had stopped to drink out of the fountain, the naiad, 
with weeping eyes (for these water-nymphs had tears to spare for 
everybody’s grief), would answer, “ No!” in a murmuring voice, 
which was just like the murmur of the stream. 

Often, likewise, she encountered fauns, who looked like sun- 
burnt country people, except that they had hairy ears, and little 

301 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


horns upon their foreheads, and the hinder legs of goats, on which 
they gambolled merrily about the woods and fields. They were a 
frolicsome kind of creature, but grew as sad as their cheerful dis- 
positions would allow when Ceres inquired for her daughter, and 
they had no good news to tell. But sometimes she came sud- 
denly upon a rude gang of satyrs, who had faces like monkeys 
and horses’ tails behind them, and who were generally dancing 
in a very boisterous manner, with shouts of noisy laughter. 
When she stopped to question them, they would only laugh 
the louder, and make new merriment out of the lone woman’s 
distress. How unkind of those ugly satyrs! And once, while 
crossing a solitary sheep-pasture, she saw a personage named 
Pan, seated at the foot of a tall rock, and making music on a 
shepherd’s flute. He, too, had horns, and hairy ears, and goat’s 
feet; but, being acquainted with Mother Ceres, he answered her 
question as civilly as he knew how, and invited her to taste some 
milk and honey out of a wooden bowl. But neither could Pan tell 
her what had become of Proserpina, any better than the rest of 
these wild people. 

And thus Mother Ceres went wandering about for nine long 
days and nights, finding no trace of Proserpina, unless it were 
now and then a withered flower; and these she picked up and put 
in her bosom, because she fancied that they might have fallen from 
her poor child’s hand. All day she travelled onward through the 
hot sun; and at night, again, the flame of the torch would redden 
and gleam along the pathway, and she continued her search by its 
light, without ever sitting down to rest. 

On the tenth day, she chanced to espy the mouth of a cavern, 
within which (though it was bright noon everywhere else) there 
would have been only a dusky twilight; but it so happened that a 
torch was burning there. It flickered, and struggled with the 
duskiness, but could not half light up the gloomy cavern with all 
its melancholy glimmer. Ceres was resolved to leave no spot with- 

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THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


out a search; so she peeped into the entrance of the cave, and 
lighted it up a little more, by holding her own torch before her. 
In so doing, she caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a woman, 
sitting on the brown leaves of the last autumn, a great heap of 
which had been swept into the cave by the wind. This woman 
(if woman it were) was by no means so beautiful as many of her 
sex; for her head, they tell me, was shaped very much like a dog’s, 
and, by way of ornament, she wore a wreath of snakes around it. 
But Mother Ceres, the moment she saw her, knew that this was an 
odd kind of a person, who put all her enjoyment in being mis- 
erable, and never would have a word to say to other people, unless 
they were as melancholy and wretched as she herself delighted 
to be. 

“TI am wretched enough now,” thought poor Ceres, “to talk 
with this melancholy Hecate, were she ten times sadder than ever 
she was yet.” 

So she stepped into the cave, and sat down on the withered 
leaves by the dog-headed woman’s side. In all the world, since her 
daughter’s loss, she had found no other companion. 

“O Hecate,” said she, “if ever you lose a daughter, you will 
know what sorrow is. Tell me, for pity’s sake, have you seen my 
poor child Proserpina pass by the mouth of your cavern?” 

“No,” answered Hecate, in a cracked voice, and sighing be- 
twixt every word or two, — “no, Mother Ceres, I have seen noth- 
ing of your daughter. But my ears, you must know, are made in 
such a way that all cries of distress and affright, all over the world, 
are pretty sure to find their way to them; and nine days ago, as I 
sat in my cave, making myself very miserable, I heard the voice 
of a young girl, shrieking as if in great distress. Something ter- 
rible has happened to the child, you may rest assured. As well as 
I could judge, a dragon, or some other cruel monster, was carry- 
ing her away.” 

“ You kill me by saying so,” cried Ceres, almost ready to faint. 

303 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


“Where was the sound, and which way did it seem to 
OtF 

ei It passed very swiftly along,” said Hecate, “and, at the 
same time, there was a heavy rumbling of wheels towards the 
eastward. I can tell you nothing more, except that, in my 
honest opinion, you will never see your daughter again. The 
best advice I can give you is, to take up your abode in this 
cavern, where we will be the two most wretched women in the 
world.” 

“ Not yet, dark Hecate,” replied Ceres. “ But do you first 
come with your torch, and help me to seek for my lost child. 
And when there shall be no more hope of finding her (if that black 
day is ordained to come) then, if you will give me room to fling 
myself down, either on these withered. leaves or on the naked rock, 
I will show you what it is to be miserable. But, until I know 
that she has perished from the face of the earth, I will not allow 
myself space even to grieve.” 

The dismal Hecate did not much like the idea of going abroad 
into the sunny world. But then she reflected that the sorrow of 
the disconsolate Ceres would be like a gloomy twilight round 
about them both, let the sun shine ever so brightly, and that there- 
fore she might enjoy her bad spirits quite as well as if she were 
to stay in the cave. So she finally consented to go, and they set 
out together, both carrying torches, although it was broad day- 
light and clear sunshine. The torchlight seemed to make a 
gloom; so that the people whom they met along the road could 
not very distinctly see their figures; and, indeed, if they once 
caught a glimpse of Hecate, with the wreath of snakes round her 
forehead, they generally thought it prudent to run away, without 
waiting for a second glance. 

As the pair travelled along in this woe-begone manner, a 
thought struck Ceres. 

“There is one person,” she exclaimed, “ who must have seen 

304 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


my poor child, and can doubtless tell what has become of her. 
Why did not I think of him before? It is Phoebus.” 

“What,” said Hecate, “the young man that always sits in 
the sunshine? Oh, pray do not think of going near him. He is a 
gay, light, frivolous young fellow, and will only smile in your 
face. And besides, there is such a glare of the sun about him, that 
he will quite blind my poor eyes, which I have almost wept away 
already.” 

“You have promised to be my companion,” answered Ceres. 
“ Come, let us make haste, or the sunshine will be gone, and Phee- 
bus along with it.” 

Accordingly, they went along in quest of Phoebus, both of 
them sighing grievously, and Hecate, to say the truth, making a 
great deal worse lamentation than Ceres; for all the pleasure she 
had, you know, lay in being miserable, and therefore she made 
the most of it. By and by, after a pretty long journey, they ar- 
rived at the sunniest spot in the whole world. There they beheld a 
beautiful young man, with long, curling ringlets, which seemed 
to be made of golden sunbeams; his garments were like light 
summer clouds; and the expression of his face was so exceed- 
ingly vivid, that Hecate held her hands before her eyes, muttering 
that he ought to wear a black veil. Phoebus (for this was the very 
person whom they were seeking) had a lyre in his hands, and was 
making its chords tremble with sweet music; at the same time 
singing a most exquisite song, which he had recently composed. 
For, besides a great many other accomplishments, this young 
man was renowned for his admirable poetry. 

As Ceres and her dismal companion approached him, Phoebus 
smiled on them so cheerfully that Hecate’s wreath of snakes gave 
a spiteful hiss, and Hecate heartily wished herself back in her 
cave. But as for Ceres, she was too earnest in her grief either to 
know or care whether Phcebus smiled or frowned. 

“ Phoebus!” exclaimed she, “ I am in great trouble, and have 

os 305 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


come to you for assistance. Can you tell me what has become 
of my dear child Proserpina? ” 

“ Proserpina! Proserpina, did you call her name?” answered 
Pheebus, endeavoring to recollect; for there was such a continual 
flow of pleasant ideas in his mind that he was apt to forget what 
had happened no longer ago than yesterday. “ Ah, yes, I re- 
member her now. A very lovely child, indeed. I am happy to 
tell you, my dear madam, that I did see the little Proserpina not 
many days ago. You may make yourself perfectly easy about 
her. She is safe, and in excellent hands.” 

“Oh, where is my dear child? ” cried Ceres, clasping her hands 
and flinging herself at his feet. 

“Why,” said Phoebus, — and as he spoke, he kept touching his 
lyre so as to make a thread of music run in and out among his 
words, — “as the little damsel was gathering flowers (and she 
has really a very exquisite taste for flowers) she was suddenly 
snatched up by King Pluto, and carried off to his dominions. I 
have never been in that part of the universe; but the royal palace, 
I am told, is built in a very noble style of architecture, and of the 
most splendid and costly materials. Gold, diamonds, pearls, and 
all manner of precious stones will be your daughter’s ordinary 
playthings. I recommend to you, my dear lady, to give yourself 
no uneasiness. Proserpina’s sense of beauty will be duly grati- 
fied, and, even in spite of the lack of sunshine, she will lead a very 
enviable life.” 

“Hush! Say not such a word!” answered Ceres, indig- 
nantly. ‘ What is there to gratify her heart? What are all the 
splendors you speak of, without affection? I must have her 
back again. Will you go with me, Phebus, to demand my 
daughter of this wicked Pluto?” : 

“Pray excuse me,” replied Phoebus, with an elegant obei- 
sance. “I certainly wish you success, and regret that my own 
affairs are so immediately pressing that I cannot have the pleas- 

306 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


ure of attending you. Besides, I am not upon the best of terms 
with King Pluto. ‘To tell you the truth, his three-headed mas- 
tiff would never let me pass the gateway; for I should be com- 
pelled to take a sheaf of sunbeams along with me, and those, you 
know, are forbidden things in Pluto’s kingdom.” 

“Ah, Phoebus,” said Ceres, with bitter meaning in her words, 
“you have a harp instead of a heart. Farewell.’ 

“Will not you stay a moment,” asked Phoebus, “and hear 
me turn the pretty and touching story of Proserpina into ex- 
temporary verses? ” | 

But Ceres shook her head, and hastened away, along with 
Hecate. Phoebus (who, as I have told you, was an exquisite 
poet) forthwith began to make an ode about the poor mother’s 
grief; and, if we were to judge of his sensibility by this beautiful 
production, he must have been endowed with a very tender 
heart. But when a poet gets into the habit of using his heart- 
strings to make chords for his lyre, he may thrum upon them 
as much as he will, without any great pain to himself. Ac- 
cordingly, though Phoebus sang a very sad song, he was as 
merry all the while as were the sunbeams amid which he dwelt. 

Poor Mother Ceres had now found out what had become of 
her daughter, but was not a whit happier than before. Her 
case, on the contrary, looked more desperate than ever. As 
long as Proserpina was above ground there might have been 
hopes of regaining her. But now that the poor child was shut up 
within the iron gates of the king of the mines, at the threshold 
of which lay the three-headed Cerberus, there seemed no possibil- 
ity of her ever making her escape. The dismal Hecate, who loved 
to take the darkest view of things, told Ceres that she had better 
come with her to the cavern, and spend the rest of her life in 
being miserable. Ceres answered that Hecate was welcome to 
go back thither herself, but that, for her part, she would wander 
about the earth in quest of the entrance to King Pluto’s do- 

307 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


minions. And Hecate took her at her word, and hurried back 
to her beloved cave, frightening a great many little children with 
a glimpse of her dog’s face, as she went. 

Poor Mother Ceres! It is melancholy to think of her, 
pursuing her toilsome way all alone, and holding up that ney- 
er-dying torch, the flame of which seemed an emblem of the 
grief and hope that burned together in her heart. So much did 
she suffer, that, though her aspect had been quite youthful when 
her troubles began, she grew to look like an elderly person in a 
.very brief time. She cared not how she was dressed, nor had she 
ever thought of flinging away the wreath of withered poppies, 
which she put on the very morning of Proserpina’s disappear- 
ance. She roamed about in so wild a way, and with her hair so 
dishevelled, that people took her for some distracted creature, and 
never dreamed that this was Mother Ceres, who had the oversight 
of every seed which the husbandman planted. Nowadays, how- 
ever, she gave herself no trouble about seed-time nor harvest, but 
left the farmers to take care of their own affairs, and the crops to 
fade or flourish, as the case might be. There was nothing, now, in 
which Ceres seemed to feel an interest, unless when she saw chil- 
dren at play, or gathering flowers along the wayside. Then, in- 
deed, she would stand and gaze at them with tears in her eyes. 
The children, too, appeared to have a sympathy with her grief, 
and would cluster themselves in a little group about her knees, 
and look up wistfully in her face; and Ceres, after giving them a 
kiss all round, would lead them to their homes, and advise their 
mothers never to let them stray out of sight. 

“Yor if they do,” said she, “it may happen to you, as it has 
to me, that the iron-hearted King Pluto will take a liking to 
your darlings, and snatch them up in his chariot, and carry them 
away.” 

One day, during her pilgrimage in quest of the entrance to 
Pluto’s kingdom, she came to the palace of King Celeus, who 

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THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


reigned at Eleusis. Ascending a lofty flight of steps, she entered 
the portal, and found the royal household in very great alarm 
about the queen’s baby. The infant, it seems, was sickly (being 
troubled with its teeth, I suppose), and would take no food, and 
was all the time moaning with pain. The queen — her name was 
Metanira — was desirous of finding a nurse; and when she be- 
held a woman of matronly aspect coming up the palace steps, 
she thought, in her own mind, that here was the very person 
whom she needed. So Queen Metanira ran to the door, with the 
poor wailing baby in her arms, and besought Ceres to take 
charge of it, or, at least, to tell her what would do it good. 

“Will you trust the child entirely to me?” asked Ceres. 

“Yes, and gladly too,” answered the queen, “if you will de- 
vote all your time to him. For I can see that you have been a 
mother.” 

“You are right,” said Ceres. “I once had a child of my own. 
Well; I will be the nurse of this poor, sickly boy. But beware, I 
warn you, that you do not interfere with any kind of treatment 
which I may judge proper for him. If you do so, the poor infant 
must suffer for his mother’s folly.” 

Then she kissed: the child, and it seemed to do him good; for 
he smiled and nestled closely into her bosom. 

So Mother Ceres set her torch in a corner (where it kept burn- 
ing all the while), and took up her abode in the palace of King 
Celeus, as nurse to the little Prince Demophoén. She treated 
him as if he were her own child, and allowed neither the king nor 
the queen to say whether he should be bathed in warm or cold 
water, or what he should eat, or how often he should take the air, 
or when he should be put to bed. You would hardly believe me, if 
I were to tell how quickly the baby prince got rid of his ailments, 
and grew fat, and rosy, and strong, and how he had two rows of 
ivory teeth in less time than any other little fellow, before or since. 
Instead of the palest, and wretchedest, and puniest imp in the 

309 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


world (as his own mother confessed him to be when Ceres first 
took him in charge), he was now a strapping baby, crowing, 
laughing, kicking up his heels, and rolling from one end of the 
room to the other. All the good women of the neighborhood 
crowded to the palace, and held up their hands, in unutterable 
amazement, at the beauty and wholesomeness of this darling little 
prince. Their wonder was the greater, because he was never seen 
to taste any food; not even so much as a cup of milk. 

“Pray, nurse,” the queen kept saying, “ how is it that you 
make the child thrive so?” 

“IT was a mother once,” Ceres always replied; “and having 
nursed my own child, I know what other children need.” 

But Queen Metanira, as was very natural, had a great curi- 
osity to know precisely what the nurse did to her child. One 
night, therefore, she hid herself in the chamber where Ceres and 
the little prince were accustomed to sleep. There was a fire in the 
chimney, and it had now crumbled into great coals and embers, 
which lay glowing on the hearth, with a blaze flickering up now 
and then, and flinging a warm and ruddy light upon the walls. 
Ceres sat before the hearth with the child in her lap, and the fire- 
light making her shadow dance upon the ceiling overhead. She 
undressed the little prince, and bathed him all over with some fra- 
grant liquid out of a vase. The next thing she did was to rake 
back the red embers, and make a hollow place among them, just 
where the backlog had been. At last, while the baby was crow- 
ing, and clapping its fat little hands, and laughing in the nurse’s 
face (just as you may have seen your little brother or sister do 
before going into its warm bath), Ceres suddenly laid him, all 
naked as he was, in the hollow among the red-hot embers. She 
then raked the ashes over him, and turned quietly away. 

You may imagine, if you can, how Queen Metanira shrieked, 
thinking nothing less than that her dear child would be burned 
to a cinder. She burst forth from her hiding-place, and running 

310 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


to the hearth, raked open the fire, and snatched up poor little 
Prince Demophoon out of his bed of live coals, one of which he 
was griping in each of his fists. He immediately set up a griev- 
ous cry, as babies are apt to do when rudely startled out of a 
sound sleep. To the queen’s astonishment and joy, she could 
perceive no token of the child’s being injured by the hot fire in 
which he had lain. She now turned to Mother Ceres, and asked 
her to explain the mystery. 

“Foolish woman,” answered Ceres, “did you not promise to 
intrust this poor infant entirely to me? You little know the mis- 
chief you have done him. Had you left him to my care, he would 
have grown up like a child of celestial birth, endowed with super- 
human strength and intelligence, and would have lived forever. 
Do you imagine that earthly children are to become immortal 
without being tempered to it in the fiercest heat of the fire? But 
you have ruined your own son. For though he will be a strong 
man and a hero in his day, yet, on account of your folly, 
he will grow old, and finally die, like the sons of other women. 
The weak tenderness of his mother has cost the poor boy an 
immortality. Farewell.” 

Saying these words, she kissed the little prince Demophoon, 
and sighed to think what he had lost, and took her departure 
without heeding Queen Metanira, who entreated her to re- 
main, and cover up the child among the hot embers as often as 
she pleased. Poor baby! He never slept so warmly again. 

While she dwelt in the king’s palace, Mother Ceres had 
been so continually occupied with taking care of the young 
prince, that her heart was a little lightened of its grief for 
Proserpina. But now, having nothing else to busy herself 
about, she became just as wretched as before. At length, in 
her despair, she came to the dreadful resolution that not a 
stalk of grain, nor a blade of grass, not a potato, nor a turnip, 
nor any other vegetable that was good for man or beast to eat, 

311 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


should be suffered to grow until her daughter were restored. 
She even forbade the flowers to bloom, lest somebody’s heart 
should be cheered by their beauty. 

Now, as not so much as a head of asparagus ever presumed 
to poke itself out of the ground, without the especial permission 
of Ceres, you may conceive what a terrible calamity had here 
fallen upon the earth. The husbandmen ploughed and planted 
as usual; but there lay the rich black furrows, all as barren as 
a desert of sand. The pastures looked as brown in the sweet 
month of June as ever they did in chill November. The rich 
man’s broad acres and the cottager’s small garden-patch were 
equally blighted. Every little girl’s flower-bed showed nothing 
but dry stalks. The old people shook their white heads, and said 
that the earth had grown aged like themselves, and was no 
longer capable of wearing the warm smile of summer on its face. 
It was really piteous to see the poor, starving cattle and sheep, 
how they followed behind Ceres, lowing and bleating, as if their 
instinct taught them to expect help from her; and everybody 
that was acquainted with her power besought her to have mercy 
on the human race, and, at all events, to let the grass grow. But 
Mother Ceres, though naturally of an affectionate disposition, 
was now inexorable. 

“ Never,” said she. “If the earth is ever again to see any 
verdure, it must first grow along the path which my daughter 
will tread in coming back to me.” 

Finally, as there seemed to be no other remedy, our old friend 
Quicksilver was sent post haste to King Pluto, in hopes that he 
might be persuaded to undo the mischief he had done, and to set 
everything right again, by giving up Proserpina. Quicksilver 
accordingly made the best of his way to the great gate, took a 
flying leap right over the three-headed mastiff, and stood at the 
door of the palace in an inconceivably short time. The servants 
knew him both by his face and garb; for his short cloak, and his 

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THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


winged cap and shoes, and his snaky staff had often been seen 
thereabouts in times gone by. He requested to be shown imme- 
diately into the king’s presence; and Pluto, who heard his voice 
from the top of the stairs, and who loved to recreate himself with 
Quicksilver’s merry talk, called out to him to come up. And 
while they settle their business together, we must inquire what 
Proserpina has been doing ever since we saw her last. 

The child had declared, as you may remember, that she would 
not taste a mouthful of food as long as she should be compelled 
to remain in King Pluto’s palace. How she contrived to main- 
tain her resolution, and at the same time to keep herself tolerably 
plump and rosy, is more than I can explain; but some young 
ladies, I am given to understand, possess the faculty of living 
on air, and Proserpina seems to have possessed it too. At any 
rate, it was now six months since she left the outside of the earth; 
and not a morsel, so far as the attendants were able to testify, 
had yet passed between her teeth. This was the more creditable 
to Proserpina, inasmuch as King Pluto had caused her to be 
tempted day after day, with all manner of sweetmeats, and richly 
preserved fruits, and delicacies of every sort, such as young 
people are generally most fond of. But her good mother had 
often told her of the hurtfulness of these things; and for that 
reason alone, if there had been no other, she would have reso- 
lutely refused to taste them. 

All this time, being of a cheerful and active disposition, the 
little damsel was not quite so unhappy as you may have sup- 
posed. The immense palace had a thousand rooms, and was full 
of beautiful and wonderful objects. There was a never-ceasing 
gloom, it is true, which half hid itself among the innumerable 
pillars, gliding before the child as she wandered among them, 
and treading stealthily behind her in the echo of her footsteps. 
Neither was all the dazzle of the precious stones, which flamed 
with their own light, worth one gleam of natural sunshine; nor 

313 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


~ could the most brilliant of the many-colored gems, which Proser- 
pina had for playthings, vie with the simple beauty of the flowers 
she used to gather. But still, wherever the girl went, among 
those gilded halls and chambers, it seemed as if she carried nature 
and sunshine along with her, and as if she scattered dewy blos- 
soms on her right hand and on her left. After Proserpina came, 
the palace was no longer the same abode of stately artifice and 
dismal magnificence that it had before been. The inhabitants all 
felt this, and King Pluto more than any of them. 

“My own little Proserpina,’ he used to say, “I wish you 
could like me a little better. We gloomy and cloudy-natured 
persons have often as warm hearts at bottom, as those of a more 
cheerful character. If you would only stay with me of your own 
accord, it would make me happier than the possession of a hun- 
dred such palaces as this.” 

“ Ah,” said Proserpina, “ you should have tried to make me 
like you before carrying me off. And the best thing you can do 
now is, to let me go again. Then I might remember you some- 
times, and think that you were as kind as you knew how to be. 
Perhaps, too, one day or other, I might come back, and pay you 
a visit.” 

“No, no,” answered Pluto, with his gloomy smile, “I will 
not trust you for that. You are too fond of living in the broad 
daylight, and gathering flowers. What an idle and childish taste 
that is! Are not these gems, which I have ordered to be dug 
for you, and which are richer than any in my crown, — are they 
not prettier than a violet?” 

“Not half so pretty,” said Proserpina, snatching the gems 
from Pluto’s hand, and flinging them to the other end of the 
hall. “Oh, my sweet violets, shall I never see you again? ” 

And then she burst into tears. But young people’s tears have 
very little saltness or acidity in them, and do not inflame the eyes 
so much as those of grown persons; so that it is not to be won- 

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THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


dered at if, a few moments afterwards, Proserpina was sporting 
through the hall almost as merrily as she and the four sea- 
nymphs had sported along the edge of the surf wave. King 
Pluto gazed after her, and wished that he, too, was a child. And 
little Proserpina, when she turned about, and beheld this great 
king standing in his splendid hall, and looking so grand, and so 
melancholy, and so lonesome, was smitten with a kind of pity. 
She ran back to him, and, for the first time in all her life, put her 
small soft hand in his. 

“T love you a little,” whispered she, looking up in his face. 

“Do you, indeed, my dear child?” cried Pluto, bending his 
dark face down to kiss her; but Proserpina shrank away from 
the kiss, for though his features were noble, they were very dusky 
and grim. “ Well, I have not deserved it of you, after keeping 
you a prisoner for so many months, and starving you, besides. 
Are you not terribly hungry? Is there nothing which I can get 
you to eat?” 

In asking this question, the king of the mines had a very cun- 
ning purpose; for, you will recollect, if Proserpina tasted a mor- 
sel of food in his dominions, she would never afterwards be at 
liberty to quit them. 

“No, indeed,” said Proserpina. ‘ Your head cook is always 
baking, and stewing, and roasting, and rolling out paste, and con- 
triving one dish or another, which he imagines may be to my lik- 
ing. But he might just as well save himself the trouble, poor, 
fat little man that he is. I have no appetite for anything in the 
world, unless it were a slice of bread of my mother’s own baking, 
or a little fruit out of her garden.” 

When Pluto heard this, he began to see that he had mistaken 
the best method of tempting Proserpina to eat. The cook’s made 
dishes and artificial dainties were not half so delicious, in the 
good child’s opinion, as the simple fare to which Mother Ceres 
had accustomed her. Wondering that he had never thought of 

315 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


it before, the king now sent one of his trusty attendants, with a 
large basket, to get some of the finest and juiciest pears, peaches, 
and plums which could anywhere be found in the upper world. 
Unfortunately, however, this was during the time when Ceres 
had forbidden any fruits or vegetables to grow; and, after seek- 
ing all over the earth, King Pluto’s servant found only a single 
pomegranate, and that so dried up as to be not worth eating. 
Nevertheless, since there was no better to be had, he brought this 
dry, old, withered pomegranate home to the palace, put it on a 
magnificent golden salver, and carried it up to Proserpina. Now 
it happened, curiously enough, that, just as the servant was 
bringing the pomegranate into the back door of the palace, our 
friend Quicksilver had gone up the front steps, on his errand to 
get Proserpina away from King Pluto. 

As soon as Proserpina saw the pomegranate on the golden 
salver, she told the servant he had better take it away again. 

“TI shall not touch it, I assure you,” said she. “If I were 
ever so hungry, I should never think of eating such a miserable, 
dry pomegranate as that.” 

“It is the only one in the world,” said the servant. 

He set down the golden salver, with the wizened pomegranate 
upon it, and left the room. When he was gone, Proserpina could 
not help coming close to the table, and looking at this poor speci- 
men of dried fruit with a great deal of eagerness; for, to say 
the truth, on seeing something that suited her taste, she felt all 
the six months’ appetite taking possession of her at once. To 
be sure, it was a very wretched-looking pomegranate, and seemed 
to have no more juice in it than an oyster-shell. But there was 
no choice of such things in King Pluto’s palace. This was the 
first fruit she had seen there, and the last she was ever likely to 
see; and unless she ate it up immediately, it would grow drier 
than it already was, and be wholly unfit to eat. 

** At least, I may smell it,” thought Proserpina. ~ 

316 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


So she took up the pomegranate, and applied it to her nose; 
and, somehow or other, being in such close neighborhood to her 
mouth, the fruit found its way into that little red cave. Dear 
me! what an everlasting pity! Before Proserpina knew what 
she was about, her teeth had actually bitten it, of their own 
accord. Just as this fatal deed was done, the door of the apart- 
ment opened, and in came King Pluto, followed by Quicksilver, 
who had been urging him to let his little prisoner go. At the first 
noise of their entrance, Proserpina withdrew the pomegranate 
from her mouth. But Quicksilver (whose eyes were very keen, 
and his wits the sharpest that ever anybody had) perceived that 
the child was a little confused; and seeing the empty salver, he 
suspected that she had been taking a sly nibble of something or 
other. As for honest Pluto, he never guessed at the secret. 

“My little Proserpina,” said the king, sitting down, and af- 
fectionately drawing her between his knees, “ here is Quicksilver, 
who tells me that a great many misfortunes have befallen inno- 
cent people on account of my detaining you in my dominions. 
To confess the truth, I myself had already reflected that it was 
an unjustifiable act to take you away from your good mother. 
But, then, you must consider, my dear child, that this vast palace 
is apt to be gloomy (although the precious stones certainly shine 
very bright), and that I am not of the most cheerful disposition, 
and that therefore it was a natural thing enough to seek for the 
society of some merrier creature than myself. I hoped you 
would take my crown for a plaything, and me — ah, you laugh, 
naughty Proserpina — me, grim as I am, for a playmate. It was 
a silly expectation.” 

“Not so extremely silly,’ whispered Proserpina. “ You 
have really amused me very much, sometimes.” 

“Thank you,” said King Pluto, rather dryly. “But I can 
see, plainly enough, that you think my palace a dusky prison, 
and me the iron-hearted keeper of it. And an iron heart I should 

317 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


surely have, if I could detain you here any longer, my poor child, 
when it is now six months since you tasted food. I give you your 
liberty. Go with Quicksilver. Hasten home to your dear 
mother.” 

Now, although you may not have supposed it, Proserpina 
found it impossible to take leave of poor King Pluto without 
some regrets, and a good deal of compunction for not telling 
him about the pomegranate. She even shed a tear or two, think- 
ing how lonely and cheerless the great palace would seem to him, 
with all its ugly glare of artificial light, after she herself, — his 
one little ray of natural sunshine, whom he had stolen, to be sure, 
but only because he valued her so much, — after she should have 
departed. I know not how many kind things she might have 
said to the disconsolate king of the mines, had not Quicksilver 
hurried her away. 

“ Come along quickly,” whispered he in her ear, “ or his Maj- 
esty may change his royal mind. And take care, above all things, 
that you say nothing of what was brought you on the golden 
salver.” 

In a very short time, they had passed the great gate-way 
(leaving the three-headed Cerberus, barking, and yelping, and 
growling, with threefold din, behind them), and emerged upon 
the surface of the earth. It was delightful to behold, as Proser- 
pina hastened along, how the path grew verdant behind and on 
either side of her. Wherever she set her blessed foot, there was 
at once a dewy flower. The violets gushed up along the wayside. 
The grass and the grain began to sprout with tenfold vigor and 
luxuriance, to make up for the dreary months that had been 
wasted in barrenness. The starved cattle immediately set to work 
grazing, after their long fast, and ate enormously all day, and got 
up at midnight to eat more. But I can assure you it was a busy 
time of year with the farmers, when they found the summer com- 
ing upon them with such a rush. Nor must I forget to say that 

318 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


all the birds in the whole world hopped about upon the newly 
blossoming trees, and sang together in a prodigious ecstasy of 
joy. 

Mother Ceres had returned to her deserted home, and was 
sitting disconsolately on the doorstep, with her torch burning in 
her hand. She had been idly watching the flame for some 
moments past, when, all at once, it flickered and went out. 

“What does this mean?” thought she. “It was an en- 
chanted torch, and should have kept burning till my child came 
back.” 

Lifting her eyes, she was surprised to see a sudden verdure 
flashing over the brown and barren fields, exactly as you may 
have observed a golden hue gleaming far and wide across the 
landscape, from the just risen sun. 

“Does the earth disobey me?” exclaimed Mother Ceres, in- 
dignantly. “ Does it presume to be green, when I have bidden 
it be barren, until my daughter shall be restored to my arms? ”’ 

“Then open your arms, dear mother,” cried a well-known 
voice, “and take your little daughter into them.” 

And Proserpina came running, and flung herself upon her 
mother’s bosom. Their mutual transport is not to be described. 
The grief of their separation had caused both of them to shed a 
great many tears; and now they shed a great many more, be- 
cause their joy could not so well express itself in any other way. 

When their hearts had grown a little more quiet, Mother 
Ceres looked anxiously at Proserpina. 

“My child,” said she, “ did you taste any food while you were 
in King Pluto’s palace? ”’ 

“Dearest mother,” answered Proserpina, “ I will tell you the 
whole truth. Until this very morning, not a morsel of food had 
passed my lips. But to-day, they brought me a pomegranate (a 
very dry one it was, and all shrivelled up, till there was little left 
of it but seeds and skin), and having seen no fruit for so long a 

319 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


time, and being faint with hunger, I was tempted just to bite it. 
The instant I tasted it, King Pluto and Quicksilver came into the 
room. I had not swallowed a morsel; but — dear mother, I hope 
it was no harm — but six of the pomegranate seeds, I am afraid, 
remained in my mouth.” 

“ Ah, unfortunate child, and miserable me!” exclaimed 
Ceres. ‘‘ For each of those six pomegranate seeds you must 
spend one month of every year in King Pluto’s palace. You are 
but half restored to your mother. Only six months with me, and 
six with that good-for-nothing King of Darkness!” 

“Do not speak so harshly of poor King Pluto,” said Proser- 
pina, kissing her mother. “ He has some very good qualities; and 
I really think I can bear to spend six months in his palace, if he 
will only let me spend the other six with you. He certainly did 
very wrong to carry me off; but then, as he says, it was but a 
dismal sort of life for him, to live in that great gloomy place, all 
alone; and it has made a wonderful change in his spirits to have 
a little girl to run up stairs and down. There is some comfort in 
making him so happy; and so, upon the whole, dearest mother, 
let us be thankful that he is not to keep me the whole year round.” 


320 


The Golden Fleece 


HEN Jason, the son of the dethroned King of Iolchos, 
\ \ was a little boy, he was sent away from his parents, 
and placed under the queeerest schoolmaster that ever 
you heard of. This learned person was one of the people, or 
quadrupeds, called Centaurs. He lived in a cavern, and had the 
body and legs of a white horse, with the head and shoulders of a 
man. His name was Chiron; and, in spite of his odd appearance, 
he was a very excellent teacher, and had several scholars, who 
afterwards did him credit by making a great figure in the world. 
The famous Hercules was one, and so was Achilles, and Philoc- 
tetes, likewise, and Adsculapius, who acquired immense repute as 
a doctor. The good Chiron taught his pupils how to play upon 
the harp, and how to cure diseases, and how to use the sword and 
shield, together with various other branches of education, in which 
the lads of those days used to be instructed, instead of writing 
and arithmetic. 

I have sometimes suspected that Master Chiron was not really 
very different from other people, but that, being a kind-hearted 
and merry old fellow, he was in the habit of making believe that 
he was a horse, and scrambling about the school-room on all fours, 
and letting the little boys ride upon his back. And so, when his 
scholars had grown up, and grown old, and were trotting their 
grandchildren on their knees, they told them about the sports of 
their school-days; and these young folks took the idea that their 
grandfathers had been taught their letters by a Centaur, half 
man and half horse. Little children, not quite understanding 

21 321 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


what is said to them, often get such absurd notions into their 
heads, you know. 

Be that as it may, it has always been told for a fact (and al- 
ways will be told, as long as the world lasts), that Chiron, with 
the head of a schoolmaster, had the body and legs of a horse. 
Just imagine the grave old gentleman clattering and stamping 
into the school-room on his four hoofs, perhaps treading on some 
little fellow’s toes, flourishing his switch tail instead of a rod, and, 
now and then, trotting out of doors to eat a mouthful of grass! I 
wonder what the blacksmith charged him for a set of iron shoes. 

So Jason dwelt in the cave, with this four-footed Chiron, from 
the time that he was an infant, only a few months old, until he 
had grown to the full height of a man. He became a very good 
harper, I suppose, and skilful in the use of weapons, and tolerably 
acquainted with herbs and other doctor’s stuff, and, above all, an 
admirable horseman; for, in teaching young people to ride, the 
good Chiron must have been without a rival among schoolmasters. 
At length, being now a tall and athletic youth, Jason resolved to 
seek his fortune in the world, without asking Chiron’s advice, or 
telling him anything about the matter. This was very unwise, to 
be sure; and I hope none of you, my little hearers, will ever fol- 
low Jason’s example. But, you are to understand, he had heard 
how that he himself was a prince royal, and how his father, King 
{ison, had been deprived of the kingdom of Iolchos by a certain 
Pelias who would also have killed Jason, had he not been hidden 
in the Centaur’s cave. And, being come to the strength of a 
man, Jason determined to set all this business to rights, and to 
punish the wicked Pelias for wronging his dear father, and to cast 
him down from the throne, and seat himself there instead. 

With this intention, he took a spear in each hand, and threw 
a leopard’s skin over his shoulders, to keep off the rain, and set 
forth on his travels, with his long yellow ringlets waving in the 
wind. ‘The part of his dress on which he most prided himself was 

322 














THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


a pair of sandals, that had been his father’s. They were hand- 
somely embroidered, and were tied upon his feet with strings of 
gold. But his whole attire was such as people did not very often 
see; and as he passed along, the women and children ran to the 
doors and windows, wondering whither this beautiful youth was 
journeying, with his leopard’s skin and his golden-tied sandals, 
and what heroic deeds he meant to perform, with a spear in his 
right hand and another in his left. 

I know not how far Jason had travelled, when he came to a 
turbulent river, which rushed right across his pathway, with 
specks of white foam among its black eddies, hurrying tumultu- 
ously onward, and roaring angrily as it went. Though not a very 
broad river in the dry seasons of the year, it was now swollen by 
heavy rains and by the melting of the snow on the sides of Mount 
Olympus; and it thundered so loudly, and looked so wild and 
dangerous, that Jason, bold as he was, thought it prudent to pause 
upon the brink. The bed of the stream seemed to be strewn with 
sharp and rugged rocks, some of which thrust themselves above 
the water. By and by, an uprooted tree, with shattered branches, 
came drifting along the current, and got entangled among the 
rocks. Now and then, a drowned sheep, and once the carcass of a 
cow, floated past. 

In short, the swollen river had already done a great deal of 
mischief. It was evidently too deep for Jason to wade, and too 
boisterous for him to swim; he could see no bridge; and as for a 
boat, had there been any, the rocks would have broken it to pieces 
in an instant. 

“See the poor lad,” said a cracked voice close to his side. 
“He must have had but a poor education, since he does not know 
how to cross a little stream like this. Or is he afraid of wetting 
his fine golden-stringed sandals? It is a pity his four-footed 
schoolmaster is not here to carry him safely across on his back!” 

Jason looked round greatly surprised, for he did not know that 

323 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


anybody was near. But beside him stood an old woman, with a 
ragged mantle over her head, leaning on a staff, the top of which 
was carved into the shape of a cuckoo. She looked very aged, and 
wrinkled, and infirm; and yet her eyes, which were as brown as 
those of an ox, were so extremely large and beautiful, that, when 
they were fixed on Jason’s eyes, he could see nothing else but 
them. ‘The old woman had a pomegranate in her hand, although 
the fruit was then quite out of season. 

“Whither are you going, Jason?” she now asked. 

She seemed to know his name, you will observe; and, indeed, 
those great brown eyes looked as if they had a knowledge of every- 
thing, whether past or to come. While Jason was gazing at her, 
a peacock strutted forward and took his stand at the old woman’s 
side. 

“TI am going to Iolchos,” answered the young man, “to bid 
the wicked King Pelias come down from my father’s throne, and 
let me reign in his stead.” 

“ Ah, well, then,” said the old woman, still with the same 
cracked voice, “if that is all your business, you need not be in a 
very great hurry. Just take me on your back, there’s a good 
youth, and carry me across the river. I and my peacock have 
something to do on the other side, as well as yourself.” 

‘ Good mother,” replied Jason, “ your business can hardly be 
so important as the pulling down a king from his throne. Besides, 
as you may see for yourself, the river is very boisterous; and if I 
should chance to stumble, it would sweep both of us away more 
easily than it has carried off yonder uprooted tree. I would 
gladly help you if I could; but I doubt whether I am strong 
enough to carry you across.” 

“ Then,” said she, very scornfully, “neither are you strong 
enough to pull King Pelias off his throne. And, Jason, unless 
you will help an old woman at her need, you ought not to be a king. 
What are kings made for, save to succor the feeble and distressed? 

324 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


But do as you please. Either take me on your back, or with my 
poor old limbs I shall try my best to struggle across the stream.” 

Saying this, the old woman poked with her staff in the river, 
as if to find the safest place in its rocky bed where she might make 
the first step. But Jason, by this time, had grown ashamed of his 
reluctance to help her. He felt that he could never forgive him- 
self, if this poor feeble creature should come to any harm in at- 
tempting to wrestle against the headlong current. The good Chi- 
ron, whether half horse or no, had taught him that the noblest use 
of his strength was to assist the weak; and also that he must treat 
every young woman as if she were his sister, and every old one like 
a mother. Remembering these maxims, the vigorous and beau- 
tiful young man knelt down, and requested the good dame to 
mount upon his back. 

“The passage seems to me not very safe,” he remarked. 
“But as your business is so urgent, I will try to carry you across. 
If the river sweeps you away, it shall take me too.” 

“ That, no doubt, will be a great comfort to both of us,”’ quoth 
the old woman. “ But never fear. We shall get safely across.” 

So she threw her arms around Jason’s neck; and lifting her 
from the ground, he stepped boldly into the raging and foamy 
current, and began to stagger away from the shore. As for the 
peacock, it alighted on the old dame’s shoulder. Jason’s two 
spears, one in each hand, kept him from stumbling, and enabled 
him to feel his way among the hidden rocks; although, every in- 
stant, he expected that his companion and himself would go down 
the stream, together with the drift-wood of shattered trees, and 
the carcasses of the sheep and cow. Down came the cold, snowy 
torrent from the steep side of Olympus, raging and thundering as 
if it had a real spite against Jason, or, at all events, were deter- 
mined to snatch off his living burden from his shoulders. When 
he was half-way across, the uprooted tree (which I have already 
told you about) broke loose from among the rocks, and bore 

325 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


down upon him, with all its splintered branches sticking out like 
the hundred arms of the giant Briareus. It rushed past, how- 
ever, without touching him. But the next moment, his foot was 
caught in a crevice between two rocks, and stuck there so fast, 
that, in the effort to get free, he lost one of his golden-stringed 
sandals. 

At this accident Jason could not help uttering a cry of 
vexation. 

“What is the matter, Jason?” asked the old woman. 

“Matter enough,” said the young man. “I have lost a san- 
dal here among the rocks. And what sort of a figure shall I cut 
at the court of King Pelias, with a golden-stringed sandal on 
one foot, and the other foot bare!” 

“Do not take it to heart,’ answered his companion, cheer- 
ily. ‘‘ You never met with better fortune than in losing that san- 
dal. It satisfies me that you are the very person whom the 
Speaking Oak has been talking about.” 

There was no time, just then, to inquire what the Speaking 
Oak had said. But the briskness of her tone encouraged the 
young man; and besides, he had never in his life felt so vigorous 
and mighty as since taking this old woman on his back. Instead 
of being exhausted, he gathered strength as he went on; and, 
struggling up against the torrent, he at last gained the opposite 
shore, clambered up the bank, and set down the old dame and 
her peacock safely on the grass. As soon as this was done, how- 
ever, he could not help looking rather despondently av his bare 
foot, with only a remnant of the golden string of the sandal 
clinging round his ankle. 

“You will get a handsomer pair of sandals by and by,” said 
the old woman, with a kindly look out of her beautiful brown 
eyes. “Only let King Pelias get a glimpse of that bare foot, 
and you shall see him turn as pale as ashes, I promise you. There 
is your path. Go along, my good Jason, and my blessing go with 

326 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


you. And when you sit on your throne, remember the old wo- 
man whom you helped over the river.” 

With these words, she hobbled away, giving him a smile over 
her shoulder as she departed. Whether the light of her beauti- 
ful brown eyes threw a glory round about her, or whatever the 
cause might be, Jason fancied that there was something very 
noble and majestic in her figure, after all, and that, though her 
gait seemed to be a rheumatic hobble, yet she moved with as much 
grace and dignity as any queen on earth. Her peacock, which 
had now fluttered down from her shoulder, strutted behind her 
in prodigious pomp, and spread out its magnificent tail on 
purpose for Jason to admire it. 

When the old dame and her peacock were out of sight, Jason 
set forward on his journey. After travelling a pretty long dis- 
tance, he came to a town situated at the foot of a mountain, and 
not a great way from the shore of the sea. On the outside of the 
town there was an immense crowd of people, not only men and 
women, but children, too, all in their best clothes, and evidently 
enjoying a holiday. The crowd was thickest towards the sea- 
shore; and in that direction, over the people’s heads, Jason saw 
a wreath of smoke curling upward to the blue sky. He inquired 
of one of the multitude what town it was, near by, and why so 
many persons were here assembled together. 

“This is the kingdom of Iolchos,” answered the man, “ and 
we are the subjects of King Pelias. Our monarch has summoned 
us together, that we may see him sacrifice a black bull to Nep- 
tune, who, they say, is his Majesty’s father. Yonder is the king, 
where you see the smoke going up from the altar.” 

While the man spoke he eyed Jason with great curiosity; for 
his garb was quite unlike that of the Tolchians, and it looked 
very odd to see a youth with a leopard’s skin over his shoulders, 
and each hand grasping a spear. Jason perceived, too, that the 
man stared particularly at his feet, one of which, you remember, 

327 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


was bare, while the other was decorated with his father’s golden- 
stringed sandal. 

“Look at him! only look at him!” said the man to his next 
neighbor. “‘ Do you see? He wears but one sandal!” 

Upon this, first one person, and then another, began to stare 
at Jason, and everybody seemed to be greatly struck with some- 
thing in his aspect; though they turned their eyes much oftener 
towards his feet than to any other part of his figure. Besides, he 
could hear them whispering to one another. 

“One sandal! One sandal!” they kept saying. “ The man 
with one sandal! Here he is at last! Whence has he come? 
What does he mean to do? What will the king say to the one- 
sandalled man?” 

Poor Jason was greatly abashed, and made up his mind that 
the people of Iolchos were exceedingly ill bred, to take such public 
notice of an accidental deficiency in his dress. Meanwhile, 
whether it were that they hustled him forward, or that Jason, of 
his own accord, thrust a passage through the crowd, it so hap- 
pened that he soon found himself close to the smoking altar, where 
King Pelias was sacrificing the black bull. The murmur and 
hum of the multitude, in their surprise at the spectacle of Jason 
with his one bare foot, grew so loud that it disturbed the cere- 
monies; and the king, holding the great knife with which he was 
just going to cut the bull’s throat, turned angrily about, and 
fixed his eyes on Jason. The people had now withdrawn from 
around him, so that the youth stood in an open space near the 
smoking altar, front to front with the angry King Pelias. 

“Who are you?” cried the king, with a terrible frown. “ And 
how dare you make this disturbance, while I am sacrificing a black 
bull to my father Neptune? ” 

“It is no fault of mine,” answered Jason. “ Your Majesty 
must blame the rudeness of your subjects, who have raised all this 
tumult because one of my feet happens to be bare.” 

328 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


When Jason said this, the king gave a quick, startled glance 
down at his feet. 

“ Ha!” muttered he, “ here is the one-sandalled fellow, sure 
enough! What can I do with him?” 

And he clutched more closely the great knife in his hand, as if 
he were half a mind to slay Jason instead of the black bull. The 
people round about caught up the king’s words indistinctly as they 
were uttered; and first there was a murmur among them, and 
then a loud shout. 

“The one-sandalled man has come! The prophecy must be 
fulfilled! ” 

For you are to know that, many years before, King Pelias 
had been told by the Speaking Oak of Dodona, that a man with 
one sandal should cast him down from his throne. On this ac- 
count, he had given strict orders that nobody should ever come 
into his presence, unless both sandals were securely tied upon his 
feet; and he kept an officer in his palace, whose sole business it 
was to examine people’s sandals, and to supply them with a new 
pair, at the expense of the royal treasury, as soon as the old ones 
began to wear out. In the whole course of the king’s reign, he 
had never been thrown into such a fright and agitation as by the 
spectacle of poor Jason’s bare foot. But, as he was naturally a 
bold and hard-hearted man, he soon took courage, and began to 
consider in what way he might rid himself of this terrible one- 
sandalled stranger. | 

“My good young man,” said King Pelias, taking the softest 
tone imaginable, in order to throw Jason off his guard, “‘ you are 
excessively welcome to my kingdom. Judging by your dress, you 
must have travelled a long distance; for it is not the fashion to 
wear leopard-skins in this part of the world. Pray, what may I 
call your name? and where did you receive your education? ” 

“ My name is Jason,” answered the young stranger. “ Ever 
since my infancy, I have dwelt in the cave of Chiron the Centaur. 

329 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


He was my instructor, and taught me music, and horsemanship, 
and how to cure wounds, and likewise how to inflict wounds with 
my weapons! ”’ 

“T have heard of Chiron the schoolmaster,” replied King 
Pelias, “ and how that there is an immense deal of learning and 
wisdom in his head, although it happens to be set on a horse’s 
body. It gives me great delight to see one of his scholars at my 
court. But, to test how much you have profited under so excel- 
lent a teacher, will you allow me to ask you a single question? ” 

“I do not pretend to be very wise,” said Jason. “ But ask me 
what you please, and I will answer to the best of my ability.” 

Now King Pelias meant cunningly to entrap the young man, 
and to make him say something that should be the cause of mis- 
chief and destruction to himself. So with a crafty and evil smile 
upon his face, he spoke as follows: — 

“What would you do, brave Jason,” asked he, “if there were 
a man in the world, by whom, as you had reason to believe, you 
were doomed to be ruined and slain, — what would you do, I say, 
if that man stood before you, and in your power?” 

When Jason saw the malice and wickedness which King Pelias 
could not prevent from gleaming out of his eyes, he probably 
guessed that the king had discovered what he came for, and that 
he intended to turn his own words against himself. Still he 
scorned to tell a falsehood. Like an upright and honorable 
prince, as he was, he determined to speak out the real truth. 
Since the king had chosen to ask him the question, and since Jason 
had promised him an answer, there was no right way, save to tell 
him precisely what would be the most prudent thing to do, if he 
had his worst enemy in his power. 

Therefore, after a moment’s consideration, he spoke up, with 
a firm and manly voice. 

“ I would send such a man,” said he, “in quest of the Golden 
Fleece!” 

330 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


This enterprise, you will understand, was, of all others, the 
most difficult and dangerous in the world. In the first place, it 
would be necessary to make a long voyage through unknown seas. 
There was hardly a hope, or a possibility, that any young man 
who should undertake this voyage would either succeed in ob- 
taining the Golden Fleece, or would survive to return home, and 
tell of the perils he had run. The eyes of King Pelias sparkled 
with joy, therefore, when he heard Jason’s reply. 

*“ Well said, wise man with the one sandal!” cried he. ‘‘ Go, 
then, and, at the peril of your life, bring me back the Golden 
Fleece.” 

“I go,” answered Jason, composedly. “If I fail, you need 
not fear that I will ever come back to trouble you again. But if 
I return to Lolchos with the prize, then, King Pelias, you must 
hasten down from your lofty throne, and give me your crown and 
sceptre.”’ 

“That I will,” said the king, with a sneer. “ Meantime, I 
will keep them very safely for you.” 

The first thing that Jason thought of doing, after he left the 
king’s presence, was to go to Dodona, and inquire of the Talking 
Oak what course it was best to pursue. This wonderful tree stood 
in the centre of an ancient wood. Its stately trunk rose up a hun- 
dred feet into the air, and threw a broad and dense shadow over 
more than an acre of ground. Standing beneath it, Jason looked 
up among the knotted branches and green leaves, and into the 
mysterious heart of the old tree, and spoke aloud, as if he were 
addressing some person who was hidden in the depths of the 
foliage. 

“What shall I do,” said he, ‘in order to win the Golden 
Fleece?” 

At first there was a deep silence, not only within the shadow of 
the Talking Oak, but all through the solitary wood. In a moment 
or two, however, the leaves of the oak began to stir and rustle, as if 

331 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


a gentle breeze were wandering amongst them, although the other 
trees of the wood were perfectly still. The sound grew louder, 
and became like the roar of a high wind. By and by, Jason im- 
agined that he could distinguish words, but very confusedly, be- 
cause each separate leaf of the tree seemed to be a tongue, and 
the whole myriad of tongues were babbling at once. But the 
noise waxed broader and deeper, until it resembled a tornado 
sweeping through the oak, and making one great utterance out of 
the thousand and thousand of little murmurs which each leafy 
tongue had caused by its rustling. And now, though it still had 
the tone of mighty wind roaring among the branches, it was also 
like a deep bass voice, speaking, as distinctly as a tree could be 
expected to speak, the following words: — 

“Go to Argus, the ship-builder, and bid him build a galley 
with fifty oars.” 

Then the voice melted again into the indistinct murmur of the 
rustling leaves, and died gradually away. When it was quite 
gone, Jason felt inclined to doubt whether he had actually heard 
the words, or whether his fancy had not shaped them out of the 
ordinary sound made by a breeze, while passing through the thick 
foliage of the tree. 

But on inquiry among the people of Iolchos, he found that 
there was really a man in the city, by the name of Argus, who was 
a very skilful builder of vessels. This showed some intelligence in 
the oak; else how should it have known that any such person ex- 
isted? At Jason’s request, Argus readily consented to build him 
a galley so big that it should require fifty strong men to row it; 
although no vessel of such a size and burden had heretofore been 
seen in the world. So the head carpenter, and all his journeymen 
and apprentices, began their work; and for a good while after- 
wards, there they were, busily employed, hewing out the timbers, 
and making a great clatter with their hammers; until the new 
ship, which was called the Argo, seemed to be quite ready for sea. 

332 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


And, as the Talking Oak had already given him such good advice, 
Jason thought that it would not be amiss to ask for a little more. 
He visited it again, therefore, and standing beside its huge, rough 
trunk, inquired what he should do next. 

This time, there was no such universal quivering of the leaves, 
throughout the whole tree, as there had been before. But after a 
while, Jason observed that the foliage of a great branch which 
stretched above his head had begun to rustle, as if the wind were 
stirring that one bough, while all the other boughs of the oak were 
at rest. 

“ Cut me off!” said the branch, as soon as it could speak dis- 
tinctly, — “ cut me off! cut me off! and carve me into a figure- 
head for your galley.” 

Accordingly, Jason took the branch at its word, and lopped 
it off the tree. A carver in the neighborhood engaged to make 
the figure-head. He was a tolerably good workman, and had al- . 
ready carved several figure-heads, in what he intended for fem- 
inine shapes, and looking pretty much like those which we see 
nowadays stuck up under a vessel’s bowsprit, with great staring 
eyes, that never wink at the dash of the spray. But (what was 
very strange) the carver found that his hand was guided by some 
unseen power, and by a skill beyond his own, and that his tools 
shaped out an image which he had never dreamed of. When the 
work was finished, it turned out to be the figure of a beautiful 
woman with a helmet on her head, from beneath which the long 
ringlets fell down upon her shoulders. On the left arm was a 
shield, and in its centre appeared a lifelike representation of the 
head of Medusa with the snaky locks. The right arm was ex- 
tended, as if pointing onward. ‘The face of this wonderful statue, 
though not angry or forbidding, was so grave and majestic, that 
perhaps you might call it severe; and as for the mouth, it seemed 
just ready to unclose its lips, and utter words of the deepest 
wisdom. 

333 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


Jason was delighted with the oaken image, and gave the carver 
no rest until it was completed, and set up where a figure-head has 
always stood, from that time to this, in the vessel’s prow. 

“ And now,” cried he, as he stood gazing at the calm, majestic 
face of the statue, “I must go to the Talking Oak, and inquire 
what next to do.” 

“There is no need of that, Jason,” said a voice which, though 
it was far lower, reminded him of the mighty tones of the great 
oak. ‘‘ When you desire good advice, you can seek it of me.” 

Jason had been looking straight into the face of the image 
when these words were spoken. But he could hardly believe 
either his ears or his eyes. The truth was, however, that the oaken 
lips had moved, and, to all appearance, the voice had proceeded 
from the statue’s mouth. Recovering a little from his surprise, 
Jason bethought himself that the image had been carved out of 
the wood of the Talking Oak, and that, therefore, it was really no 
great wonder, but on the contrary, the most natural thing in the 
world, that it should possess the faculty of speech. It would have 
been very odd, indeed, if it had not. But certainly it was a great 
piece of good fortune that he should be able to carry so wise a 
block of wood along with him in his perilous voyage. 

“ Tell me, wondrous image,” exclaimed Jason, — “ since you 
inherit the wisdom of the Speaking Oak of Dodona, whose daugh- 
ter you are, — tell me, where shall I find fifty bold youths, who 
will take each of them an oar of my galley? They must have 
sturdy arms to row, and brave hearts to encounter perils, or we 
shall never win the Golden Fleece.” 

“ Go,” replied the oaken image, — “‘ go, summon all the heroes 
of Greece.” 

And, in fact, considering what a great deed was to be done, 
could any advice be wiser than this which Jason received from 
the figure-head of his vessel? He lost no time in sending messen- 
gers to all the cities, and making known to the whole people of 

334 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


Greece, that Prince Jason, the son of King Aison, was going in 
quest of the Fleece of Gold, and that he desired the help of forty- 
nine of the bravest and strongest young men alive, to row his vessel 
and share his dangers. And Jason himself would be the fiftieth. 

At this news, the adventurous youths, all over the country, 
began to bestir themselves. Some of them had already fought 
with giants, and slain dragons; and the younger ones, who had 
not yet met with such good fortune, thought it a shame to have 
lived so long without getting astride of a flying serpent, or stick- 
ing their spears into a Chimera, or, at least, thrusting their right 
arms down a monstrous lion’s throat. There was a fair prospect 
that they would meet with plenty of such adventures before find- 
ing the Golden Fleece. As soon as they could furbish up their 
helmets and shields, therefore, and gird on their trusty swords, 
they came thronging to Iolchos, and clambered on board the new 
galley. Shaking hands with Jason, they assured him that they 
did not care a pin for their lives, but would help row the vessel to 
the remotest edge of the world, and as much farther as he might 
think it best to go. 

Many of these brave fellows had been educated by Chiron, the 
four-footed pedagogue, and were therefore old schoolmates of 
Jason, and knew him to be a lad of spirit. The mighty Hercules, 
whose shoulders afterwards held up the sky, was one of them. 
And there were Castor and Pollux, the twin brothers, who were 
never accused of being chicken-hearted, although they had been 
hatched out of an egg; and Theseus, who was so renowned for 
killing the Minotaur; and Lynceus, with his wonderfully sharp 
eyes, which could see through a millstone, or look right down into 
the depths of the earth, and discover the treasures that were there; 
and Orpheus, the very best of harpers, who sang and played upon 
his lyre so sweetly, that the brute beasts stood upon their hind 
legs, and capered merrily to the music. Yes, and at some of his 
more moving tunes, the rocks bestirred their moss-grown bulk out 

335 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


of the ground, and a grove of forest trees uprooted themselves, 
and, nodding their tops to one another, performed a country 
dance. 

One of the rowers was a beautiful young woman, named Ata- 
Janta, who had been nursed among the mountains by a bear. So 
light of foot was this fair damsel that she could step from one 
foamy crest of a wave to the foamy crest of another, without wet- 
ting more than the sole of her sandal. She had grown up in a 
very wild way, and talked much about the rights of women, and 
loved hunting and war far better than her needle. But, in my 
opinion, the most remarkable of this famous company were 
two sons of the North Wind (airy youngsters, and of rather a 
blustering disposition), who had wings on their shoulders, and, 
in case of a calm, could puff out their cheeks, and blow almost as 
fresh a breeze as their father. I ought not to forget the prophets 
and conjurers, of whom there were several in the crew, and who 
could foretell what would happen to-morrow, or the next day, or 
a hundred years hence, but were generally quite unconscious of 
what was passing at the moment. 

Jason appointed Tiphys to be helmsman, because he was a star- 
gazer, and knew the points of the compass. Lynceus, on account 
of his sharp sight, was stationed as a lookout in the prow, where 
he saw a whole day’s sail ahead, but was rather apt to overlook 
things that lay directly under his nose. If the sea only happened 
to be deep enough, however, Lynceus could tell you exactly what 
kind of rocks or sands were at the bottom of it; and he often cried 
out to his companions, that they were sailing over heaps of sunken 
treasure, which yet he was none the richer for beholding. To con- 
fess the truth, few people believed him when he said it. 

Well! But when the Argonauts, as these fifty brave adven- 
turers were called, had prepared everything for the voyage, an 
unforeseen difficulty threatened to end it before it was begun. The 
vessel, you must understand, was so long, and broad, and ponder- 

336 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


ous, that the united force of all the fifty was insufficient to shove 
her into the water. Hercules, I suppose, had not grown to his full 
strength, else he might have set her afloat as easily as a little boy 
launches his boat upon a puddle. But here were these fifty heroes 
pushing, and straining, and growing red in the face, without mak- 
ing the Argo start an inch. At last, quite wearied out, they sat 
themselves down on the shore, exceedingly disconsolate, and 
thinking that the vessel must be left to rot and fall in pieces, and 
that they must either swim across the sea or lose the Golden 
Fleece. 

All at once, Jason bethought himself of the galley’s miracu- 
lous figure-head. 

“O daughter of the Talking Oak,” cried he, “ how shall we 
set to work to get our vessel into the water?” 

“Seat yourselves,” answered the image (for it had known 
what ought to be done from the very first, and was only waiting 
for the question to be put), — “ seat yourselves, and handle your 
oars, and let Orpheus play upon his harp.” 

Immediately the fifty heroes got on board, and seizing their 
oars, held them perpendicularly in the air, while Orpheus (who 
liked such a task far better than rowing) swept his fingers across 
the harp. At the first ringing note of the music, they felt the 
vessel stir. Orpheus thrummed away briskly, and the galley slid 
at once into the sea, dipping her prow so deeply that the figure- 
head drank the wave with its marvellous lips, and rose again as 
buoyant as a swan. The rowers plied their fifty oars; the white 
foam boiled up before the prow; the water gurgled and bubbled 
in their wake; while Orpheus continued to play so lively a strain 
of music, that the vessel seemed to dance over the billows by way 
of keeping time to it. Thus triumphantly did the Argo sail out 
of the harbor, amidst the huzzas and good wishes of everybody 
except the wicked old Pelias, who stood on a promontory, scowling 
at her, and wishing that he could blow out of his lungs the tempest 

22 337 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


of wrath that was in his heart, and so sink the galley with all on 
board. When they had sailed above fifty miles over the sea, Lyn- 
ceus happened to cast his sharp eyes behind, and said that there 
was this bad-hearted king, still perched upon the promontory, and 
scowling so gloomily that it looked like a black thunder-cloud in 
that quarter of the horizon. 

In order to make the time pass away more pleasantly during 
the voyage, the heroes talked about the Golden Fleece. It orig- 
inally belonged, it appears, to a Boeotian ram, who had taken on 
his back two children, when in danger of their lives, and fled with 
them over land and sea, as far as Colchis. One of the children, 
whose name was Helle, fell into the sea and was drowned. But 
the other (a little boy, named Phrixus) was brought safe ashore 
by the faithful ram, who, however, was so exhausted that he im- 
mediately lay down and died. In memory of this good deed, and 
as a token of his true heart, the fleece of the poor dead ram was 
miraculously changed to gold, and became one of the most beau- 
tiful objects ever seen on earth. It was hung upon a tree in a 
sacred grove, where it had now been kept I know not how many 
years, and was the envy of mighty kings, who had nothing so mag- 
nificent in any of their palaces. | 

If I were to tell you all the adventures of the Argonauts, it 
would take me till nightfall, and perhaps a great deal longer. 
There was no lack of wonderful events, as you may judge from 
what you may have already heard. At a certain island they were 
hospitably received by King Cyzicus, its sovereign, who made a 
feast for them, and treated them like brothers. But the Argo- 
nauts saw that this good king looked downcast and very much 
troubled, and they therefore inquired of him what was the matter. 
King Cyzicus hereupon informed them that he and his subjects 
were greatly abused and incommoded by the inhabitants of a 
neighboring mountain, who made war upon them, and killed many 
people, and ravaged the country. And while they were talking 

338 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


about it, Cyzicus pointed to the mountain, and asked Jason and 
his companions what they saw there. 

““T see some very tall objects,” answered Jason; “ but they 
are at such a distance that I cannot distinctly make out what they 
are. To tell your Majesty the truth, they look so very strangely 
that I am inclined to think them clouds, which have chanced to 
take something like human shapes.” 

“ I see them very plainly,” remarked Lynceus, whose eyes, you 
know, were as far-sighted as a telescope. “ They are a band of 
enormous giants, all of whom have six arms apiece, and a club, a 
sword, or some other weapon in each of their hands.” 

“You have excellent eyes,” said King Cyzicus. “ Yes; they 
are six-armed giants, as you say, and these are the enemies whom 
I and my subjects have to contend with.” 

The next day, when the Argonauts were about setting sail, 
down came these terrible giants, stepping a hundred yards at a 
stride, brandishing their six arms apiece, and looking very for- 
midable, so far aloft in the air. Each of these monsters was able 
to carry on a whole war by himself, for with one of his arms he 
could fling immense stones, and wield a club with another, and a 
sword with a third, while the fourth was poking a long spear at 
the enemy, and the fifth and sixth were shooting him with a bow 
and arrow. But, luckily, though the giants were so huge, and 
had so many arms, they had each but one heart, and that no bigger 
nor braver than the heart of an ordinary man. Besides, if they 
had been like the hundred-armed Briareus, the brave Argonauts 
would have given them their hands full of fight. Jason and his 
friends went boldly to meet them, slew a great many, and made 
the rest take to their heels, so that, if the giants had had six legs 
apiece instead of six arms, it would have served them better to 
run away with. 

Another strange adventure happened when the voyagers 
came to Thrace, where they found a poor blind king, named Phin- 

339 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


eus, deserted by his subjects, and living in a very sorrowful way, 
all by himself. On Jason’s inquiring whether they could do him 
any service, the king answered that he was terribly tormented by 
three great winged creatures, called Harpies, which had the faces 
of women, and the wings, bodies, and claws of vultures. These 
ugly wretches were in the habit of snatching away his dinner, and 
allowing him no peace of his life. Upon hearing this, the Argo- 
nauts spread a plentiful feast on the sea-shore, well knowing, from 
what the blind king said of their greediness, that the Harpies 
would snuff up the scent of the victuals, and quickly come to steal 
them away. And so it turned out; for, hardly was the table set, 
before the three hideous vulture women came flapping their wings, 
seized the food in their talons, and flew off as fast as they could. 
But the two sons of the North Wind drew their swords, spread 
their pinions, and set off through the air in pursuit of the thieves, 
whom they at last overtook among some islands, after a chase of 
hundreds of miles. The two winged youths blustered terribly at 
the Harpies (for they had the rough temper of their father), 
and so frightened them with their drawn swords, that they sol- 
emnly promised never to trouble King Phineus again. 

Then the Argonauts sailed onward, and met with many other 
marvellous incidents any one of which would make a story by 
itself. At one time, they landed on an island, and were reposing 
on the grass, when they suddenly found themselves assailed by 
what seemed a shower of steel-headed arrows. Some of them 
stuck in the ground, while others hit against their shields, and sev- 
eral penetrated their flesh. The fifty heroes started up, and 
looked about them for the hidden enemy, but could find none, nor 
see any spot, on the whole island, where even a single archer could 
lie concealed. Still, however, the steel-headed arrows came whiz- 
zing among them; and, at last, happening to look upward, they 
beheld a large flock of birds, hovering and wheeling aloft, and 
shooting their feathers down upon the Argonauts. These feath- 

340 


Pa vne 


ay Aue 











5: 


SRE 








THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


ers were the steel-headed arrows that had so tormented them. 
There was no possibility of making any resistance; and the fifty 
heroic Argonauts might all have been killed or wounded by a flock 
of troublesome birds, without ever setting eyes on the Golden 
Flecee, if Jason had not thought of asking the advice of the oaken 
image. 

So he ran to the galley as fast as his legs would carry him. 

“ O daughter of the Speaking Oak,” cried he, all out of breath, 
“we need your wisdom more than ever before! We are in great 
peril from a flock of birds, who are shooting us with their steel- 
pointed feathers. What can we do to drive them away?” 

“ Make a clatter on your shields,” said the image. 

On receiving this excellent counsel, Jason hurried back to his 
companions (who were far more dismayed than when they fought 
with the six-armed giants), and bade them strike with their swords 
upon their brazen shields. Forthwith the fifty heroes set heartily 
to work, banging with might and main, and raised such a terrible 
clatter that the birds made what haste they could to get away; and 
though they had shot half the feathers out of their wings, they 
were soon seen skimming among the clouds, a long distance off, 
and looking like a flock of wild geese. Orpheus celebrated this 
victory by playing a triumphant anthem on his harp, and sang so 
melodiously that Jason begged him to desist, lest, as the steel- 
feathered birds had been driven away by an ugly sound, they 
might be enticed back again by a sweet one. 

While the Argonauts remained on this island, they saw a 
small vessel approaching the shore, in which were two young men 
of princely demeanor, and exceedingly handsome, as young 
princes generally were in those days. Now, who do you imagine 
these two voyagers turned out to be? Why, if you will believe 
me, they were the sons of that very Phrixus, who, in his child- 
hood, had been caried to Colchis on the back of the golden-fleeced 
ram. Since that time, Phrixus had married the king’s daughter; 

841 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


and the two young princes had been born and brought up at Col- 
chis, and had spent their play-days in the outskirts of the grove, in 
the centre of which the Golden Fleece was hanging upon a tree. 
They were now on their way to Greece, in hopes of getting back a 
kingdom that had been wrongfully taken from their father. 

When the princes understood whither the Argonauts were 
going, they offered to turn back and guide them to Colchis. At 
the same time, however, they spoke as if it were very doubtful 
whether Jason would succeed in getting the Golden Fleece. Ac- 
cording to their account, the tree on which it hung was guarded 
by a terrible dragon, who never failed to devour, at one mouth- 
ful, every person who might venture within his reach. 

“‘ There are other difficulties in the way,” continued the young 
princes. “ But is not this enough? Ah, brave Jason, turn back 
before it is too late. It would grieve us to the heart, if you and 
your nine-and-forty brave companions should be eaten up, at 
fifty mouthfuls, by this execrable dragon.” 

“My young friends,” quietly replied Jason, “I do not won- 
der that you think the dragon very terrible. You have grown up 
from infancy in the fear of this monster, and therefore still re- 
gard him with the awe that children feel for the bugbears and hob- 
goblins which their nurses have talked to them about. But, in 
my view of the matter, the dragon is merely a pretty large ser- 
pent, who is not half so likely to snap me up at one mouthful as 
I am to cut off his ugly head, and strip the skin from his body. 
At all events, turn back who may, I will never see Greece again 
unless I carry with me the Golden Fleece.” 

“We will none of us turn back!” cried his nine-and-forty 
brave comrades. ‘“ Let us get on board the galley this instant; 
and if the dragon is to make a breakfast of us, much good may it 
do him.” 

And Orpheus (whose custom it was to set everything to music) 
began to harp and sing most gloriously, and made every mother’s 

342 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


son of them feel as if nothing in this world were so delectable as 
to fight dragons, and nothing so truly honorable as to be eaten up 
at one mouthful, in case of the worst. 

After this (being now under the guidance of the two princes, 
who were well acquainted with the way), they quickly sailed to 
Colchis. When the king of the country, whose name was Atetes, 
heard of their arrival, he instantly summoned Jason to court. 
The king was a stern and cruel-looking potentate; and though he 
put on as polite and hospitable an expression as he could, Jason 
did not like his face a whit better than that of the wicked King 
Pelias, who dethroned his father. 

“You are welcome, brave Jason,” said King Aetes. “ Pray, 
are you on a pleasure voyage? — or do you meditate the discovery 
of unknown islands? — or what other cause has procured me the 
happiness of seeing you at my court?” 

“ Great sir,” replied Jason, with an obeisance, — for Chiron 
had taught him how to behave with propriety, whether to kings or 
beggars, — “I have come hither with a purpose which I now beg 
your Majesty’s permission to execute. King Pelias, who sits on 
my father’s throne (to which he has no more right than to the one 
on which your excellent Majesty is now seated), has engaged to 
come down from it, and to give me his crown and sceptre, pro- 
vided I bring him the Golden Fleece. This, as your Majesty is 
aware, is now hanging on a tree here at Colchis; and I humbly 
solicit your gracious leave to take it away.” 

In spite of himself, the king’s face twisted itself into an 
angry frown; for, above all things else in the world, he prized the 
Golden Fleece, and was even suspected of having done a very 
wicked act, in order to get it into his own possession. It put him 
into the worst possible humor, therefore, to hear that the gallant 
Prince Jason, and forty-nine of the bravest young warriors of 
Greece, had come to Colchis with the sole purpose of taking away 
his chief treasure. 

343 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


“ Do you know,” asked King Metes, eying Jason very sternly, 
“ what are the conditions which you must fulfil before getting pos- 
session of the Golden Fleece? ” 

“T have heard,” rejoined the youth, “‘ that a dragon lies be- 
neath the tree on which the prize hangs, and that whoever ap- 
proaches him runs the risk of being devoured at a mouthful.” 

“ True,” said the king, with a smile that did not look partic- 
ularly good-natured. ‘“‘ Very true, young man. But there are 
other things as hard, or perhaps a little harder, to be done, be- 
fore you can even have the privilege of being devoured by the 
dragon. For example, you must first tame my two brazen-footed 
and brazen-lunged bulls, which Vulcan, the wonderful blacksmith, 
made for me. There is a furnace in each of their stomachs; and 
they breathe such hot fire out of their mouths and nostrils, that 
nobody has hitherto gone nigh them without being instantly 
burned to a small, black cinder. What do you think of this, my 
brave Jason?” 

‘ I must encounter the peril,” answered Jason, composedly, 
“since it stands in the way of my purpose.” 

“ After taming the fiery bulls,” continued King Aletes, who 
was determined to scare Jason if possible, “ you must yoke them 
to a plough, and must plough the sacred earth in the grove of 
Mars, and sow some of the same dragon’s teeth from which Cad- 
mus raised a crop of armed men. They are an unruly set of rep- 
robates, those sons of the dragon’s teeth; and unless you treat 
them suitably, they will fall upon you sword in hand. You and 
your nine-and-forty Argonauts, my bold Jason, are hardly num- 
erous or strong enough to fight with such a host as will spring 


up.” 
“My master Chiron,” replied Jason, “taught me, long ago, . 
the story of Cadmus. Perhaps I can manage the quarrelsome sons 
of the dragon’s teeth as well as Cadmus did.” 
“I wish the dragon had him,” muttered King Aletes to him- 
344 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


self, ‘and the four-footed pedant, his schoolmaster, into the bar- 
gain. Why, what a foolhardy, self-conceited coxcomb he is! 
We'll see what my fire-breathing bulls will do for him. Well, 
Prince Jason,” he continued, aloud, and as complaisantly as he 
could, “make yourself comfortable for to-day, and to-morrow 
morning, since you insist upon it, you shall try your skill at the 
plough.” 

While the king talked with Jason, a beautiful young woman 
was standing behind the throne. She fixed her eyes earnestly 
upon the youthful stranger, and listened attentively to every 
word that was spoken; and when Jason withdrew from 
the king’s presence, this young woman followd him out of the 
room. 

“ T am the king’s daughter,” she said to him, “ and my name is 
Medea. I know a great deal of which other young princesses are 
ignorant, and can do many things which they would be afraid so 
much as to dream of. If you will trust to me, I can instruct you 
how to tame the fiery bulls, and sow the dragon’s teeth, and get 
the Golden Fleece.” 

“ Indeed, beautiful princess,” answered Jason, “if you will 
do me this service, I promise to be grateful to you my whole life 
long.” 

Gazing at Medea, he beheld a wonderful intelligence in her 
face. She was one of those persons whose eyes are full of mys- 
tery; so that, while looking into them, you seem to see a very 
great way, as into a deep well, yet can never be certain whether 
you see into the farthest depths, or whether there be not some- 
thing else hidden at the bottom. If Jason had been capable of 
fearing anything, he would have been afraid of making this young 
princess his enemy; for, beautiful as she now looked, she might, 
the very next instant, become as terrible as the dragon that kept 
watch over the Golden Fleece. 

“ Princess,” he exclaimed, “ you seem indeed very wise and 

845 


? 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


very powerful. But how can you help me to do the things of 
which you speak? Are you an enchantress?”’ 

“Yes, Prince Jason,” answered Medea, with a smile, “ you 
have hit upon the truth. I aman enchantress. Circe, my father’s 
sister, taught me to be one, and I could tell you, if I pleased, who 
was the old woman with the peacock, the pomegranate, and the 
cuckoo staff, whom you carried over the river; and, likewise, who 
it is that speaks through the lips of the oaken image, that stands 
in the prow of your galley. I am acquainted with some of your 
secrets, you perceive. It is well for you that I am favorably in- 
clined; for, otherwise, you would hardly escape being snapped 
up by the dragon.” 

“T should not so much care for the dragon,” replied Jason, 
“if I only knew how to manage the brazen-footed and fiery- 
lunged bulls.” 

“Tf you are as brave as I think you, and as you have need to 
be,” said Medea, “ your own bold heart will teach you that there 
is but one way of dealing with a mad bull. What it is I leave you 
to find out in the moment of peril. As for the fiery breath of these 
animals, I have a charmed ointment here, which will prevent you 
from being burned up, and cure you if you chance to be a little 
scorched.” 

So she put a golden box into his hand, and directed him how 
to apply the perfumed unguent which it contained, and where to 
meet her at midnight. 

“Only be brave,” added she, “ and before daybreak the brazen 
bulls shall be tamed.” 

The young man assured her that his heart would not fail him. 
He then rejoined his comrades, and told them what had passed 
between the princess and himself, and warned them to be in readi- 
ness in case there might be need of their help. 

At the appointed hour he met the beautiful Medea on the 
marble steps of the king’s palace. She gave him a basket, in 

346 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


which were the dragon’s teeth, just as they had been pulled out 
of the monster’s jaws by Cadmus, long ago. Medea then led 
Jason down the palace steps, and through the silent streets of 
the city, and into the royal pasture-ground, where the two brazen- 
footed bulls were kept. It was a starry night, with a bright gleam 
along the eastern edge of the sky, where the moon was soon going 
to show herself. After entering the pasture, the princess paused 
and looked around. 

“There they are,” said she, *‘ reposing themselves and chewing 
their fiery cuds in that farthest corner of the field. It will be ex- 
cellent sport, I assure you, when they catch a glimpse of your 
figure. My father and all his court delight in nothing so much 
as to see a stranger trying to yoke them, in order to come at the 
Golden Fleece. It makes a holiday in Colchis whenever such a 
thing happens. For my part, I enjoy it immensely. You can- 
not imagine in what a mere twinkling of an eye their hot breath 
shrivels a young man into a black cinder.” 

“ Are you sure, beautiful Medea,” asked Jason, “ quite sure, 
that the unguent in the gold box will prove a remedy against 
those terrible burns? ” 

“Tf you doubt it, if you are in the least afraid,” said the prin- 
cess, looking him in the face by the dim starlight, “ you had better 
never have been born than go a step nigher to the bulls.” 

But Jason had set his heart steadfastly on getting the Golden 
- Fleece; and I positively doubt whether he would have gone back 
without it, even had he been certain of finding himself turned 
into a red-hot cinder, or a handful of white ashes, the instant he 
made a step farther. He therefore let go Medea’s hand, and 
walked boldly forward in the direction whither she had pointed. 
At some distance before him he perceived four streams of fiery 
vapor, regularly appearing, and again vanishing, after dimly 
lighting up the surrounding obscurity. These, you will under- 
stand, were caused by the breath of the brazen bulls, which was 

347 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


quietly stealing out of their four nostrils, as they lay chewing 
their cuds. 

At the first two or three steps which Jason made, the four 
fiery streams appeared to gush out somewhat more plentifully; 
for the two brazen bulls had heard his foot-tramp, and were lifting 
up their hot noses to snuff the air. He went a little farther, and 
by the way in which the red vapor now spouted forth, he judged 
that the creatures had got upon their feet. Now he could see 
glowing sparks, and vivid jets of flame. At the next step, each of 
the bulls made the pasture echo with a terrible roar, while the burn- 
ing breath, which they thus belched forth, lit up the whole field with 
a momentary flash. One other stride did bold Jason make; and, 
suddenly, as a streak of lightning, on came these fiery animals, 
roaring like thunder, and sending out sheets of white flame, which 
so kindled up the scene that the young man could discern every 
object more distinctly than by daylight. Most distinctly of all he 
saw the two horrible creatures galloping right down upon him, 
their brazen hoofs rattling and ringing over the ground, and their 
tails sticking up stiffly into the air, as has always been the fashion 
with angry bulls. Their breath scorched the herbage before them. 
So intensely hot it was, indeed, that it caught a dry tree, under 
which Jason was now standing, and set it all in a light blaze. But 
as for Jason himself (thanks to Medea’s enchanted ointment), 
the white flame curled around his body, without injuring him a 
jot more than if he had been made of asbestos. 

Greatly encouraged at finding himself not yet turned into a 
cinder, the young man awaited the attack of the bulls. Just as the 
brazen brutes fancied themselves sure of tossing him into the air, 
he caught one of them by the horn, and the other by his screwed- 
up tail, and held them in a gripe like that of an iron vise, one with 
his right hand, the other with his left. Well, he must have been 
wonderfully strong in his arms, to be sure. But the secret of the 
matter was, that the brazen bulls were enchanted creatures, and 

348 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


that Jason had broken the spell of their fiery fierceness by his bold 
way of handling them. And, ever since that time, it has been the 
favorite method of brave men, when danger assails them, to do 
what they call “ taking the bull by the horns” ; and to gripe him 
by the tail is pretty much the same thing, — that is, to throw aside 
fear, and overcome the peril by despising it. 

It was now easy to yoke the bulls, and to harness them to the 
plough, which had lain rusting on the ground for a great many 
years gone by; so long was it before anybody could be found 
capable of ploughing that piece of land. Jason, I suppose, had 
been taught how to draw a furrow by the good old Chiron, who, 
perhaps, used to allow himself to be harnessed to the plough. At 
any rate, our hero succeeded perfectly well in breaking up the 
greensward; and, by the time that the moon was a quarter of her 
journey up the sky, the ploughed field lay before him, a large 
tract of black earth, ready to be sown with the dragon’s teeth. So 
Jason scattered them broadcast, and harrowed them into the soil 
with a brush-harrow, and took his stand on the edge of the field, 
anxious to see what would happen next. 

“Must we wait long for harvest-time? ” he inquired of Medea, 
who was now standing by his side. 

‘“‘ Whether sooner or later, it will be sure to come,” answered 
the princess. “A crop of armed men never fails to spring up, 
when the dragon’s teeth have been sown.” 

The moon was now high aloft in the heavens, and threw its 
bright beams over the ploughed field, where as yet there was noth- 
ing to be seen. Any farmer, on viewing it, would have said that 
Jason must wait weeks before the green blades would peep from 
among the clods, and whole months before the yellow grain would 
be ripened for the sickle. But by and by, all over the field, there 
was something that glistened in the moonbeams, like sparkling 
drops of dew. These bright objects sprouted higher, and proved. 
to be the steel heads of spears. Then there was a dazzling gleam 

349 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


from a vast number of polished brass helmets, beneath which, as 
they grew farther out of the soil, appeared the dark and bearded 
visages of warriors, struggling to free themselves from the im- 
prisoning earth. The first look that they gave at the upper world 
was a glare of wrath and defiance. Next were seen their bright 
breastplates; in every right hand there was a sword or a spear, 
and on each left arm a shield; and when this strange crop of 
warriors had but half grown out of the earth, they struggled— 
such was their impatience of restraint, — and, as it were, tore 
themselves up by the roots. Wherever a dragon’s tooth had fal- 
len, there stood a man armed for battle. They made a clangor 
with their swords against their shields, and eyed one another 
fiercely; for they had come into this beautiful world, and into the 
peaceful moonlight, full of rage and stormy passions, and ready 
to take the life of every human brother, in recompense of the boon 
of their own existence. 

There have been many other armies in the world that seemed 
to possess the same fierce nature with the one which had now 
sprouted from the dragon’s teeth; but these, in the moonlit field, 
were the more excusable, because they never had women for their 
mothers. And how it would have rejoiced any great captain, 
who was bent on conquering the world, like Alexander or Napo- 
leon, to raise a crop of armed soldiers as easily as Jason did. 

For a while, the warriors stood flourishing their weapons, 
clashing their swords against their shields, and boiling over with 
the red-hot thirst for battle. Then they began to shout, “ Show 
us the enemy! Lead us to the charge! Death or victory! Come 
on, brave comrades! Conquer or die!” and a hundred other out- 
cries, such as men always bellow forth on a battle-field, and which 
these dragon people seemed to have at their tongues’ ends. At 
last, the front rank caught sight of Jason, who, beholding the 
flash of so many weapons in the moonlight, had thought it best to 
draw his sword. In a moment all the sons of the dragon’s teeth 

350 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


appeared to take Jason for an enemy; and crying with one voice, 
“Guard the Golden Fleece!” they ran at him with uplifted 
swords and protruded spears. Jason knew that it would be im- 
possible to withstand this bloodthirsty battalion with his single 
arm, but determined, since there was nothing better to be done, to 
die as valiantly as if he himself had sprung from a dragon’s 
tooth. 

Medea, however, bade him snatch up a stone from the ground. 

“Throw it among them quickly!” cried she. “ It is the only 
way to save yourself.” 

The armed men were now so nigh that Jason could discern 
the fire flashing out of their enraged eyes, when he let fly the 
stone, and saw it strike the helmet of a tall warrior, who was rush- 
ing upon him with his blade aloft. The stone glanced from this 
man’s helmet to the shield of his nearest comrade, and thence flew 
right into the angry face of another, hitting him smartly between 
the eyes. Each of the three who had been struck by the stone took 
it for granted that his next neighbor had given him a blow; and in- 
stead of running any farther towards Jason, they began a fight 
among themselves. The confusion spread through the host, so 
that it seemed scarcely a moment before they were all hacking, 
hewing, and stabbing at one another, lopping off arms, heads, and 
legs, and doing such memorable deeds that Jason was filled with 
immense admiration; although, at the same time, he could not help 
laughing to behold these mighty men punishing each other for an 
offence which he himself had committed. In an incredibly short 
space of time (almost as short, indeed, as it had taken them to 
grow up), all but one of the heroes of the dragon’s teeth were 
stretched lifeless on the field. The last survivor, the bravest and 
strongest of the whole, had just force enough to wave his crimson 
sword over his head, and give a shout of exultation, crying, “ Vic- 
tory! Victory! Immortal fame!” when he himself fell down, and 
lay quietly among his slain brethren. 

351 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


And there was the end of the army that had sprouted from the 
dragon’s teeth. That fierce and feverish fight was the only en- 
joyment which they had tasted on this beautiful earth. 

“Let them sleep in the bed of honor,” said the Princess 
Medea, with a sly smile at Jason. “ The world will always have 
simpletons enough, just like them, fighting and dying for they 
know not what, and fancying that posterity will take the trouble 
to put laurel wreaths on their rusty and battered helmets. Could 
you help smiling, Prince Jason, to see the self-conceit of that last 
fellow, just as he tumbled down?” 

“It made me very sad,” answered Jason, gravely. ‘“ And, 
to tell you the truth, princess, the Golden Fleece does not appear 
so well worth the winning, after what I have here beheld.” 

“You will think differently in the morning,” said Medea. 
“True, the Golden Fleece may not be so valuable as you have 
thought it; but then there is nothing better in the world; and one 
must needs have an object, you know. Come! Your night’s 
work has been well performed; and to-morrow you can inform 
King Metes that the first part of your allotted task is fulfilled.” 

Agreeably to Medea’s advice, Jason went betimes in the 
morning to the palace of King Avetes. Entering the presence- 
chamber, he stood at the foot of the throne, and made a low 
obeisance. 

“Your eyes look heavy, Prince Jason,” observed the king; 
“you appear to have spent a sleepless night. I hope you have 
been considering the matter a little more wisely, and have con- 
cluded not to get yourself scorched to a cinder, in attempting to 
tame my brazen-lunged bulls.” 

“That is already accomplished, may it please your Majesty,” 
replied Jason. “ The bulls have been tamed and yoked; the field 
has been ploughed; the dragon’s teeth have been sown broad- 
cast, and harrowed into the soil; the crop of armed warriors has 
sprung up, and they have slain one another, to the last man. 

352 


> 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


And now I solicit your Majesty’s permission to encounter the 
dragon, that I may take down the Golden Fleece from the tree, 
and depart, with my nine-and-forty comrades.” 

King Aletes scowled, and looked very angry and excessively 
disturbed; for he knew that, in accordance with his kingly prom- 
ise, he ought now to permit Jason to win the fleece, if his courage 
and skill should enable him to do so. But, since the young man 
had met with such good luck in the matter of the brazen bulls and 
the dragon’s teeth, the king feared that he would be equally suc- 
cessful in slaying the dragon. And therefore, though he would 
gladly have seen Jason snapped up at a mouthful, he was resolved 
(and it was a very wrong thing of this wicked potentate) not to 
run any further risk of losing his beloved fleece. 

“ You never would have succeeded in this business, young 
man,” said he, “if my undutiful daughter Medea had not helped 
you with her enchantments. Had you acted fairly, you would 
have been, at this instant, a black cinder, or a handful of white 
ashes. I forbid you, on pain of death, to make any more attempts 
to get the Golden Fleece. To speak my mind plainly, you shall 
never set eyes on so much as one of its glistening locks.” 

Jason left the king’s presence in great sorrow and anger. He 
could think of nothing better to be done than to summon together 
his forty-nine brave Argonauts, march at once to the grove of 
Mars, slay the dragon, take possession of the Golden Fleece, get 
on board the Argo, and spread all sail for Iolchos. The success 
of the scheme depended, it is true, on the doubtful point whether 
all the fifty heroes might not be snapped up, at so many mouth- 
fuls, by the dragon. But, as Jason was hastening down the palace 
steps, the Princess Medea called after him, and beckoned him to 
return. Her black eyes shone upon him with such a keen intelli- 
gence, that he felt as if there were a serpent peeping out of them; 
and although she had done him so much service only the night be- 
fore, he was by no means very certain that she would not do him 

28 353 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


an equally great mischief before sunset. These enchantresses, you 
must know, are never to be depended upon. 

“What says King Aetes, my royal and upright father?” in- 
quired Medea, slightly smiling. “ Will he give you the Golden 
Fleece, without any further risk or trouble? ” 

“On the contrary,” answered Jason, “he is very angry with 
me for taming the brazen bulls and sowing the dragon’s teeth. 
And he forbids me to make any more attempts, and positively re- 
fuses to give up the Golden Fleece, whether I slay the dragon or 
no.” 

“Yes, Jason,” said the princess, “and I can tell you more. 
Unless you set sail from Colchis before to-morrow’s sunrise, the 
king means to burn your fifty-oared galley, and put yourself and 
your forty-nine brave comrades to the sword. But be of good 
courage. The Golden Fleece you shall have, if it lies within the 
power of my enchantments to get it for you. Wait for me here 
an hour before midnight.” 

At the appointed hour, you might again have seen Prince 
Jason and the Princess Medea, side by side, stealing through the 
streets of Colchis, on their way to the sacred grove, in the centre 
of which the Golden Fleece was suspended to a tree. While they 
were crossing the pasture-ground, the brazen bulls came towards 
Jason, lowing, nodding their heads, and thrusting forth their 
snouts, which, as other cattle do, they loved to have rubbed and 
caressed by a friendly hand. Their fierce nature was thoroughly 
tamed; and, with their fierceness, the two furnaces in their stom- 
achs had likewise been extinguished, insomuch that they probably 
enjoyed far more comfort in grazing and chewing their cuds than 
ever before. Indeed, it had heretofore been a great inconvenience 
to these poor animals, that, whenever they wished to eat a mouth- 
ful of grass, the fire out of their nostrils had shrivelled it up, be- 
fore they could manage to crop it. How they contrived to keep 
themselves alive is more than I can imagine. But now, instead of 

354 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


emitting jets of flame and streams of sulphurous vapor, they 
breathed the very sweetest of cow breath. 

After kindly patting the bulls, Jason followed Medea’s guid- 
ance into the grove of Mars, where the great oak-trees, that had 
been growing for centuries, threw so thick a shade that the moon- 
beams struggled vainly to find their way through it. Only here 
and there a glimmer fell upon the leaf-strewn earth, or now and 
then a breeze stirred the boughs aside, and gave Jason a glimpse 
of the sky, lest, in that deep obscurity, he might forget that there 
was one, overhead. At length, when they had gone farther and 
farther into the heart of the duskiness, Medea squeezed Jason’s 
hand. 

‘Look yonder,” she whispered. “Do you see it?” 

Gleaming among the venerable oaks, there was a radiance, not 
like the moonbeams, but rather resembling the golden glory of the 
setting sun. It proceeded from an object, which appeared to be 
suspended at about a man’s height from the ground, a little far- 
ther within the wood. 

“What is it?” asked Jason. 

‘* Have you come so far to seek it,” exclaimed Medea, “ and do 
you not recognize the meed of all your toils and perils, when it 
glitters before your eyes? It is the Golden Fleece.” 

Jason went onward a few steps farther, and then stopped to 
gaze. Oh, how beautiful it looked, shining with a marvellous light 
of its own, that inestimable prize, which so many heroes had longed 
to behold, but had perished in the quest of it, either by the perils 
of their voyage, or by the fiery breath of the brazen-lunged 
bulls. 

“ How gloriously it shines!” cried Jason, in a rapture. “ It 
has surely been dipped in the richest gold of sunset. Let me 
hasten onward, and take it to my bosom.” 

“ Stay,” said Medea, holding him back. “ Have you forgotten 
what guards it?” 

355 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


To say the truth, in the joy of beholding the object of his de- 
sires, the terrible dragon had quite slipped out of Jason’s memory. 
Soon, however, something came to pass that reminded him what 
perils were still to be encountered. An antelope, that probably 
mistook the yellow radiance for sunrise, came bounding fleetly 
through the grove. He was rushing straight towards the Golden 
Fleece, when suddenly there was a frightful hiss, and the immense 
head and half of the scaly body of the dragon was thrust forth (for 
he was twisted round the trunk of the tree on which the fleece 
hung), and seizing the poor antelope, swallowed him with one 
snap of his jaws. 

After this feat, the dragon seemed sensible that some other 
living creature was within reach on which he felt inclined to 
finish his meal. In various directions he kept poking his 
ugly snout among the trees, stretching out his neck a terrible 
long way, now here, now there, and now close to the spot 
where Jason and the princess were hiding behind an oak. Upon » 
my word, as the head came waving and undulating through the 
air, and reaching almost within arm’s-length of Prince Jason, it 
was a very hideous and uncomfortable sight. The gape of his 
enormous jaws was nearly as wide as the gateway of the king’s 
palace. 

“Well, Jason,” whispered Medea (for she was ill-natured, as 
all enchantresses are, and wanted to make the bold youth tremble), 
“what do you think now of your prospect of winning the Golden 
Fleece?” 

Jason answered only by drawing his sword and making a step 
forward. 

“ Stay, foolish youth,” said Medea, grasping his arm. “ Do 
not you see you are lost, without me as your good angel? In this 
gold box I have a magic potion, which will do the dragon’s busi- 
ness far more effectually than your sword.” 

The dragon had probably heard the voices; for, swift as light- 

356 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


ning, his black head and forked tongue came hissing among the 
trees again, darting full forty feet at a stretch. As it approached, 
Medea tossed the contents of the gold box dight down the mons- 
ter’s wide open throat. Immediately, with an outrageous hiss and 
a tremendous wriggle, — flinging his tail up to the tip-top of the 
tallest tree, and shattering all its branches as it crashed heavily 
down again, — the dragon fell at full length upon the ground, 
and lay quite motionless. 

“It is only a sleeping potion,” said the enchantress to Prince 
Jason. “ One always finds a use for these mischievous creatures, 
sooner or later; so I did not wish to kill him outright. Quick! 
Snatch the prize, and let us begone. You have won the Golden 
Fleece.” 

Jason caught the fleece from the tree, and hurried through the 
grove, the deep shadows of which were illuminated as he passed 
by the golden glory of the precious object that he bore along. A 
little way before him, he beheld the old woman whom he had 
helped over the stream, with her peacock beside her. She clapped 
her hands for joy, and beckoning him to make haste, disappeared 
among the duskiness of the trees. Espying the two winged sons 
of the North Wind (who were disporting themselves in the moon- 
light, a few hundred feet aloft), Jason bade them tell the rest of 
the Argonauts to embark as speedily as possible. But Lynceus, 
with his sharp eyes, had already caught a glimpse of him, bringing 
the Golden Fleece, although several stone-walls, a hill, and the 
black shadows of the grove of Mars intervened between. By his 
advice, the heroes had seated themselves on the benches of the gal- 
ley, with their oars held perpendicularly, ready to let fall into the 
water. 

As Jason drew near, he heard the Talking Image calling to 
him with more than ordinary eagerness, in its grave, sweet 
voice: — | 

“Make haste, Prince Jason! For your life, make haste! ” 

357 


TANGLEWOOD TALES 


With one bound he leaped aboard. At sight of the glorious 
radiance of the Golden Fleece, the nine-and-forty heroes gave a 
mighty shout, and Orpheus, striking his harp, sang a song of tri- 
umph, to the cadence of which the galley flew over the water, 
homeward bound, as if careering along with wings! 


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